Flower's Pick
by Kisshulover1
Summary: As the bonfires of Midsummer are lit along the land, Berwald can only think of one thing. His summer Bride, Tino, and how badly he wants to be with him. Will Berwald's Midsummer plan fail as he thinks it will? Or will a small little flower ensure his love? Rated M for reasons.
1. Midsummer

**Damn, all these fanfiction's keep spewing out of my head! Make it stop! Ah anyway, multiple pairings and stuffz so enjoy. AND REVIEW DAMNIT. I do not own Hetalia. **

…

"Like…Why are we, like, doing this again?" The blonde Polish man whined again, trudging through the scratchy fields of the meadow. Small wildflowers already bloomed and were nestled in the dry prickly grass. The small clustered group of boys had been wandering around the back skirts of the village for nearly an hour now, and the sun on their backs was beginning to grow blistering and brutal. The Polish man whined again.

Nikolas, the Norwegian leader of the group just frowned blankly. "Because we were dared to Feliks." He stated with spite, turning to glare at his younger brother Björt. Björt just laughed cruelly.

"What? Are you going to back out on a dare, Nikolas?" his little brother taunted, pinching his own cheeks back to make a face, his babyish eyes showing bright. Norway sneered, getting ready to pound the little Icelandic into the ground.

"I'll kill you when we get home…" were all the words the fair haired Norwegian said, turning back to the field.

"Come on guys, it's not thaaaaaat bad." Tino, the overly cheerful, happy-go-lucky, member of the group tried his best to smile. Norway glared at him. Tino fidgeted and laughed nervously, turning to gaze at Feliks once more.

"Um…like, guys? What was the dare again?" the Polish man asked, flipping his hair back. Fishing a leather cord from his tunic he grabbed a fistful of his wheat colored hair and tied it back. Then, scooping up a flower that he deemed nice enough, stuck the blossom behind his ear.

Björt smiled once more. "Since the Midsummer feast is tomorrow, I wanted to try out a little experiment."* He trailed off, sitting himself down on an old stump. The three boys looked nervously at the small Icelandic. They didn't like the wording the smaller boy had used, and they certainly didn't like the wicked gleam in his sky blue eyes.

"I want you guys…to do the flower tradition."* It was said simply, with little menace, yet it made each boy cringe.

"Perkele! But we are not _girls_!" Tino shouted out, his eyes wide. There was no way in hell he was doing this, he would be the laughing stock of the entire village! To do the flower tradition…and as a man no less! Why, it was one of the most embarrassing things he could do! Well…maybe not as embarrassing as what Mathias, their Danish friend did last year when he was found drunk and kissing a cow in the barn. Yep, nothing was that embarrassing.

Feliks lips pulled into a pout. He plopped in the grass and grabbed a handful of the straggly weeds.

"Like, someone is like, going to have to explain this to me, like, now!" he complained, throwing the weeds in to the air, watching as the wind drifted them away. Nikolas sighed, clearly annoyed.

"Ah… that's right. Felik's moved here in the winter from Poland. He doesn't know what the flower tradition is!" Tino exclaimed, sitting down next to the Polish boy, who Tino noticed, was wearing a woman's tunic instead of a boy's one.

"Like, if you guys are talking about _Wianki_, then I know what it is."* The pole said, dusting off his bright green tunic. Norway shook his head.

"No. It's a silly tradition that the girls partake in every Midsummer." Nikolas groaned out, picking up a dandelion and twirling it around his fingers.

"What's it like, entail?" Felik's asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. Tino sighed and plucked a small white yarrow flower from its stem. He gazed at the flower before handing it to Feliks. The Pole accepted it with glee, adding it to his hair.

"The night before Midsummer, when the smaller bonfires are lit and the village huts are decorated with flowers, the unmarried maidens in the village go out into the fields at dusk and each pick seven different wild flowers from the meadow, then that all race over the rounded gate poles of the livestock's paddock's and run back home were the flowers are put under their pillows." The Finn explained, leaning back and resting his head on the grass. Somewhere to the South a ewe bleated and a farmer's horn was called, but other than that the meadow was contently silent.

Feliks smiled. "I love flowers, like, what's so bad about that?" He asked, emerald green eyes shining.

"It gets worse…" Nikolas sighed, resting his head in his palms as he sat down on the dry pasture floor.

"When the maidens go to sleep, the flowers are supposed to enchant their dreams and while they sleep, their husbands face will be shown in their dreams…." The Finn finished, sitting up straight.

"Björt, do we have to do it? Were not girls, and it's stupid anyway!" Tino pleaded with the younger lad. But the silver haired boy would have none of it. Crossing his arms over his doe skinned jerkin he shook his head.

"A dares a dare." He stated childishly. He was not going to budge and inch. Nikolas frowned.

"Björt, we shouldn't mess with magic. You know that Midsummer is the longest day of the year, a day of divination and the supernatural! We'll only anger the Gods with our trickery; do you really want to piss off the Goddess?" he added, looking his brother square in the jaw. Björt's face looked a bit pale for a split second but then it resumed its haughtiness.

"So, does this mean you're a coward?" the little Scandinavian asked, mocking his older brother. Nikolas's face kept its cool demeanor.

"Fine, I'll do it. But don't come crying to me when you wake up tomorrow with Thor's hammer up your ass…" The Nordic warned.

Björt suddenly smiled cheerfully. "Just for that, you all have to do this while wearing girl's dresses!" The little boy giggled, swinging his little legs off the stump. Nikolas and Tino's faces drained of all their color.

"No." the two repeated with deadly swiftness. There was no way in hell Tino was dressing up in a silly girls dress to go pick damn flowers and hop over fences! No way in this world or the next!

Feliks then clapped his hands in a friendly motion, trying to dispel the tension. "Come on guys, so what if it's like, a bit embarrassing? Were men! We can like, take the embarrassment!" His voice shook with courage. Tino sighed. A dare was a dare…

After the rest of the two boys silently agreed to the troublesome challenge, they all sat up and dusted off their tunics. Tino looked to the sky. It was a deep sea blue, but soon it would turn a bloodied orange, with a few salmon colored clouds squeezing in from the sun. It was time for them to get going, there was only a few hours of day light left!

"All right, we'll meet back here with the women at dusk, so don't be late!" Björt chuckled to himself. Nikolas swatted at his brothers head playfully.

"Just you wait Björt; we'll get you for this." He threatened, giving the little seven year old a noogie. Björt whined and broke free from his brother's arms, running around like a mad goat, bucking and kicking along the high grass. The three boys, all over nineteen winters just laughed at the little boy, trying to get the awful terms of the dare out of their mind. It was only when they heard the shrill sound of the hunting horn that they all turned their heads behind them.

"The hunters must have gotten a good feast," Tino observed, pausing in his steps to gaze at the source of the sound. Feliks nodded and then smiled suddenly. "Well, I don't like, know about you guys, but it's too damn hot! Let's like, go for a swim, huh?" he asked, swaying in the grass, he began to walk towards a few boulders that led the way to a fat and lazy river that cut near the village. The rest of the boys nodded in agreement and hurriedly ran to the river, laughing and making crude jokes all along the way.

…

The pig made a harsh squeal as its belly was ripped open from the obsidian arrow, the shaft of the dart sticking out limply from the now bloodied flesh. The sow gave one more harsh grunt before her throat was slit, entreating the forest to silence. She plopped to the floor and sank into the musty, rotten leaves. Her hunter crouched down and ripped out the arrow, squinting as blood hit him lightly in the face; it was hot and tasted of dreadful iron. He licked his lips.

He tossed the now broken arrow in the leather nap sack and turned back to the pig. He laid his hands across her eyes, closing them, watching the glow of life leave the pupils, enchanting the creature with death. He then snaked his hands to her belly, where the mortal wound still bled. The bent figure placed his fingers upon her flesh, letting them lightly lace on her belly, covering the wound, the blood. He thanked the forest and the Gods for the sow's meat, knowing that nothing of this world could hear the words he spoke in his head.

Then, as quickly as the young man had knelt, he was back on his feet. Near the pig, he scrambled around until he grabbed the hind legs of the sow and hoisted the swine on his bare shoulder. The blood began to slide down his pale, almost translucent frame, sticky and nauseatingly sweet.

It had been an hour since he left the hunting party, choosing to hunt along the forest instead of the meadow. Looking up at the sun he could hear the soft shouts of his hunting party. They were near the river, not too far off he guessed. Slapping the pig on the rock floor, he wiped his hands on his tunic. As hungry as he was, he would gut the pig and carry it over to the village for everyone to share. He smiled. They would be so proud of him, all of them-even _him_. Blushing slightly at the mention of 'him', Berwald shook his head to dispel his thoughts.

Then, digging his knife hesitantly into the quickly chilling carcass, he began cutting up and down, spearing chunks of meat on shaven pine bows and placing it over his back. In a few seconds he heard the laughing and the joking voices of the rest of the hunters. A few of them carrying a kill of some sort. Three rabbit's, a few stray hens, and even a string of trout. They would eat well tonight.

After pausing to greet Berwald, the loudest of the hunters and the one Berwald surely hated the most, smiled at the tall Swede.

"Well, Berwald, it seems like you've caught another big one, eh?" the Danish man asked, eyeing the slowly bleeding pig. Berwald grunted in an answer before hoisting up a pine bough that had the head of the pig, he gestured for the rest of the hunters to bring the meat and follow him.

But then that annoying voice that he hated so much stopped him.

"Whoa whoa buddy. Were all tired, and well, frankly we smell, and by _we_ I mean _you_." Berwald glared up at the blonde blue eyed Dane. "So. Can't we just take a quick dip in the river to wash up? The meat will be fine by the river if we keep it on the rocks?" he proposed, resting his hands on his hips. Berwald furrowed his brows. He did smell…and he did desperately want to dive into the cool river water. But he shook his head.

"It go bad." He grumbled, picking up the pine pikes again and hauling them over his shoulder. Mathias, the Dane, scowled.

"Well I'm taking a damn swim!" he shouted, his voice full of spite, trampling off through the forest he left Berwald with the rest of the hunters, a skinny lithe Lithuanian with bark russet hair, a tall broad and flaxen haired German, along with his annoyingly vocal albino brother, and an easy go lucky Spaniard with bright eyes.

The men, who had decided to help Berwald instead of go to the river, each took up a spit of meat and together they carried back the food to the village. It was a short walk but due to the blazing sun it was torturous work, and for Berwald, who was covered in blood, it was sticky and uncomfortable.

But, after much curse words and cackling, from the albino German mostly, they were able to bring the meat back to the village. Berwald, assuring the men that he could take care of it from here, carefully speared the hog on the fire pit, and set the planks of meat to cook. Then, turning to the head cook, a skinny French man gave him the right away to roast the meat. Berwald had to make sure this Midsummer was perfect. He had to make sure the village had enough to eat, and that the bonfire was ready to be lit at twilight. Everything had to go according to plan. Because this was the only shot Berwald had.

Berwald was well aware of the Midsummer night traditions, on this night, the sun was at its peak, and so, the people of the camp all got up to dance around the fire, drums beating, feat leaping up into the earth, and the sweet aroma of flowers filling the crackling air. After homage to the Sun was paid, the people would then feast and drink their fill of ale, bread and meat.

And then it was the maiden's dance.

Berwald felt a shiver run through him. As the fires were stoked, and the time approached, the unwedded females, and sometimes males, would skip to the bonfire and dance around magically in traditional robes, their hair crowned with heather, yarrow, broom and meadows sweet. And then Berwald would see him. The domination of Berwald's affection. Tino Väinämöinen. The sole thing in this world that could make Berwald's heart beat like it was on fire. The young boy, with hair like crystal snow, eyes like the bright violet of the morning glories that dusted the meadows, and that smooth skin, like churned butter. The youth was everything that Berwald craved. And tonight Berwald would take the Finn as his midsummer bride.

Berwald turned to the roasting pig. It had taken him forever to track the damn sow down. Berwald looked to his upturned hand; he felt a stinging sensation flame up from his wrist to seep out of his palm. Blood. Bringing the boar down had not been easy, and he paid for it with a tusk slitting into his palm back in the forest. Berwald sighed and squeezed his hand into a fist.

He had brought down that swine just for Tino, so that the Finn would find him worthy. Only a warrior or a hunter with sure accomplishment could pick a bride first tonight, and Berwald had worked his very hardest to ensure himself first pick. By being the best hunter, finest swordsmen, and greatest provider for the village, he had acclaimed many achievements in the clan that most men never hoped to attain. And though Tino was not a maiden, Berwald did not mind.

The Finn was still as beautiful as any of the women in the camp and still as attractive to the Swede as any female he had ever laid eyes on. Berwald only hoped that the Gods would be kind to him this _midsommarstång*_, and grant him his summer bride.

Berwald was torn away from his thoughts as a stray white dog began to lick up his leg, trying to lap up the dribbling blood that was still on the Swede. Grunting and shooing the dog off the Swede decided to go down to the river to wash off, yet the door still followed, bounding around the Swede's legs. Begrudgingly he trotted off through the thicket in the direction of the river banks, the small little pup close behind.

…

**Sorry about all the blood in the first chapter! Poor piggy…. REVIEW DAMNIT**

**Authors note: **

**Midsummer-** Midsummer is a Pagan holiday that takes place in June when the sun is at its highest in power. Certain masculine Gods or Gods representing the Sun are honored.

"**Flower Tradition"-** I have no idea if there is an actual term for it, but it's basically a tradition that is most dominate in Sweden were unmarried women place seven flowers underneath their pillow, and when they sleep, their future husband will appear in their dreams.

_**Wianki-**_ A Tradition in Poland were at Midsummer, women throw wreaths of flowers into the Baltic Sea or into rivers.

_**Midsommarstång**_- Swedish term for Midsummer


	2. Do you Remember?

This was fun to do… I do not own Hetalia! REVIEW PLEASE I LIVE OFF OF THEM!

…

The water left puckered Goosebumps on the boy's arms as they shuffled into the clear and rushing river water. Summer's lazy tone had made them all thirst for the splash of the waves and the currant of the streams as they waded farther and farther into the brook.

Tino's teeth chattered noisily as he advanced further into the bitterly cool water. Wobbling around in the rushing of the waves, he grabbed blindly for the long stalks of grass that grew along the stream, using them to balance himself before turning behind him to see the rest of his friends. Nikolas had planted himself on the sandbar; swishing his feet in the water while his little brother walloped and shrieked in the stream, giggling as he tried to catch minnows with his bare hands. Feliks had perched himself on a slippery charcoal colored rock in the middle of the river, he began to comb his hands through hair, smiling and humming a song.

Soon others joined in, the Italian twins who were brought last year to the village by their Grandfather, a sweet girl named Elizabeta who lived with her Austrian husband, and Eduard and Raivis, who lived together in a big long house with their adopted brother Liet. All at once the nine youths began to talk and splash in the water, all getting soaked and giggling in the streams gem blue water, all excited for tonight and tomorrow's festivities.

It was Elizabeta who first spoke up about the night's pre-Midsummer festival. She bundled up her skirts in her fists and trotted into the thick and swirling water, shrieking slightly at its firm coldness. Then, her green eyes shining, she turned to Tino.

"So…I heard you boys are going to be attempting the flower tradition?" she asked, a giggle in her voice. Tino's face immediately went red. All the sudden a big sprits of water doused Tino's back, he yelped at the sheer coldness.

"Yep! They have to, they have to!" chanted Björt, as he galloped through the water to Elizabeta, and hung onto her skirts, getting messy wet little hand prints on her pleated dress. Elizabeta scooped up the child and snuggled him to her bosom.

"The whole village is talking about it. Some of the elders say it will anger the Gods, while others see no fault in it. Either way, it is not a joking matter!" She warned playfully. Feliks smiled and stepped lightly into the water, wading at mid thigh to the pretty Hungarian girl.

"Then it like, really works?" he asked, excitement hitting his voice. Elizabeta gave a bright and vigorous smile, setting Björt down she nodded.

"Oh yes, how do you think I met my husband? Last Midsummer I did the ritual and during the night, I dreamed of him! The next week he asked me to marry him!" she said, twirling around, her apron becoming soaked in the water. Then, placing a finger over her mouth she stifled a laugh.

"I wonder who you boys will see in your dreams?" she laughed, her eyes lighting with amusement. Then, one of the Italian twins, the more even tempered of the two, smiled brightly. He had been sitting quietly on a huge slopping rock that dipped into the river, braiding cords of dry heather and bright blue Aster into wreaths and crowns for the celebration tomorrow. He paused in his work to pluck a nearby blue bell from its stalk and adding it to his newest creation.

"Does it really work sister Hungary?" The Italian asked, calling her by her fond nickname. The russet haired girl clapped her hands with glee, her long eyelashes accenting the joy in her gaze.

"It does Feli, it does! Who do you hope you will see?" she asked the chestnut brunette. The young boy paused, looking up to the sun. He then craned his head down to his lap, giving a boyish smile.

"Hmmm….I hope Ludwig…ve~" he said after a few seconds, his face blushing like a pink seashell. Next to him his brother scoffed.

"Don't tell me you actually believe in some stupid folklore? And really? The Potato bastard farmer?" The older twin asked bitterly. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at the dry banks of the stream. But his twins face kept up its shinning demeanor.

"Ve~ it's a sweet tradition! And though we perform St. John's festival back home, this one sounds more fun Fratello!"* he said, swinging his legs back and forth. Feli was right, Tino thought. The festival that they held every year was fun. Tino sighed heavily. And it was all going to happen tomorrow, though there was much to prepare for tonight!

They would have a small feast tonight with the meat that the hunters brought, and then Tino would have to help Nikolas and Björt with decorating their stables and barn with greenery for good luck next year.* Tino would then have to help his aunt with the bread baking and the honeyed currants for tomorrow's feast which was always massive with many people! Tino felt a wave of nausea. Then he would have to go with the women to pick flowers for the silly tradition. He glared venomously at Björt… Why must his little cousin be so much of a pain in his Finnish ass?

But in an instant Tino's thoughts were disrupted by the sweet accent of the Hungarian woman once more.

"So Tino, who do you hope your husband will be?" she asked slyly, scooting over to the platinum blonde who just recently had been deep in thought.

"Ahh…" he started to say something but was cut off.

"Everyone knows Berwald, like, already has the hot's for him…" Feliks voice seeped through Tino's ears. In a split second the Finn's face grew as bright as the crown on a roosters head. Feliciano giggled softly, as he bent pieces of grass between his fingers once again, on his fifth wreath.

"He'd make a good husband." Nikolas said with laughter for once in his voice. Tino's face fumed, his hands balled into fists. There was no way in hell Berwald could like Tino, I mean sure, they used to be friends when they were kids, but that was a long time ago, and Tino just couldn't bring himself to even think of the possibility as the tall and outrageously scary Swedish man as his Summer husband. It even made him shudder with fright!

"Like, I heard that he's planning to ask you to be his Summer Bride!" Feliks shrieked with girlish giggles.

"But…I mean, he's so scary!" Eduard finally piped up, his hands pausing in their search for shells on the beach. It was then Raivis's turn to say something.

"He's so tall…like a bear on hind legs!" he peeped, still perched in his spot on a crooked apple tree, the green un-ripened apples budding from the bloom.

Tino fidgeted, feeling very uncomfortable at the sudden spin of the conversation. He flexed his feet under the water and tried desperately to change it, but the seed had been planted, and the Polish man Feliks would not halt in his gossip.

"Like, I heard he went with the hunters this morning to get a big boar to win your heart Tino! Isn't that like, so romantic!" The Polish man said with giddiness.

"Oh yes, because bringing me a bloodied pig carcass just screams, "I love you"." The Finn said sarcastically. He frowned and sat down next to Feli, who was just now fastening a few morning glories to the headdress.

"Well, I think it's like, romantic." The blonde Pole breathed into the air, clutching his hands to his heart. Björt giggled and plopped into the water, getting his doe hide chemise all wet.

"Tino should marry Berwald, then they can make scary giant babies!" he squealed with delight, eyeing his Finnish cousin. Tino just glared at the kid.

"Knowing Tino they'll just end up vertically challenged alcoholics." Romano said his elbows resting on his knees. The Finn gave him a dirty look before Feli caught his attention. The young Italian had fastened the wreath with the morning glories on Tino's brow, making his violet eyes show stark bright by his pale face and the glare of the sun.

"Ve~ Like a princess." Feliciano breathed, admiring his handy work.

"Like a summer bride."Elizabeta corrected, taking Tino by the hands, she lightly dipped into the water with the Finn and led him in a circular dance, her body moving with experienced knowledge while he just awkwardly swayed side to side. Soon Feliks joined in, placing a wreath of golden yarrow on his head and setting a coronet of enormous ruby red lilies atop Elizabeta's.

Raivis and Björt, joined by hands started hopping on the beach, jumping like frogs and laughing hysterically. Soon Feli had got Romano to dance and both Italian twins, with orange poppies in their hair, stomped their feet and lightly danced on the sand by the river, smiles on both their faces. Even Nikolas and Eduard, who had not gotten up to dance, wore grins on their faces as they watched their friends dance in the summer heat. And then it was all shattered by one voice.

"What do we have here? A Couple of Elves amidst us?"* The humorous voice of the Danish man made everyone halt in their steps. Slowly, the hunting party from this morning stepped through the thick river brush, the Danish man in lead, a huge lumbering axe on his shoulders. Everyone just starred.

That is, everyone else except for Feliks. The blonde man bolted out of the water to run to the brown haired Lithuanian and latched onto his side like a toddler at his mother's skirts. Liet, his face red, patted the girlish man's head with his hand.

Everyone knew something was going on between the two boys, but no one could quite guess what. Anyway, everyone let it alone and allowed the Polish man to do what he would. Who were they to place judgment on love?

Mathias, ignoring the two, stepped further onto the beach, immediately stalking out his prey. Stepping next to the Norwegian he lifted up his chin with his fingers.

"Ah…It is Maiden Bright Eye!"* his lips set into a jaded smirk. Nikolas just glared. The entirety of the inhabitants on the beach just stared.

Ludwig, the tall broad German cut through the silence. "We just brought back some game for the feasts today and tomorrow. A boar, a few hares and hens. " He informed them, his steely blue eyes looking for someone or something in particular.

Feliks gave a quick glance in Tino's direction and the mention of the boar, to which Tino just fumed and downcast his eyes in embarrassment.

"Ve~ Ludwig, did you hunt down some pasta?" the little Italian asked, tugging on the Germans arm. Said German just sighed and set the Italian sitting in the grass, trying to smile.

"Feli, Pasta is not an animal…" the German explained for the fifteenth time. The caramel eyed Italian just smiled and nodded.

"Hey, did you guys bring back anything tasty for me?" the other Italian twin asked, stepping toward the hunting party who had begun to wash themselves in the stream.

"I brought you some tomatoes, my little Lovi!" the Spanish man Antonio said happily, placing three ripe tomatoes in the Italian boy's hands.

The boy blushed but turned his back. "Ah…th-thanks….Bastard!" he breathed, tucking one of the tomatoes in his palm and biting into it quickly, tasting the sweetness of the fruit.

"So what were you guys talking about before we got here?" Ludwig's brother, Gilbert asked, scrubbing the last of the grime from his legs, a grin on his face. A small little hen's chick resting on his head.

"We were talking about how these brave young boys have decided to take the flower tradition to heart tonight." Elizabeta said a smirk on her lips. Tino's face once more blushed red.

"Kesesese…. Really now? Heh heh…" the Albino Prussian smiled wickedly. "All of you?"

"Like, no, just Tino, Nikolas and Me!" Feliks answered, adjusting the crown of flowers on his head. He stepped out of the river and made room for the sweaty and exhausted hunters, letting them have the rivers blushingly cool water to themselves.

"So Norge," as Mathias so lovingly called Nikolas, "Are you hoping you'll dream of me tonight?" He asked his voice cocky; he winked in the Norse men's direction. Nikolas rolled his eyes.

"The only dream I'd have of you Mathias, is one were your getting eaten by a bear." The Norwegian stated his eyes blank and hazy. Mathias snorted as laughter rose up from his throat.

"All I'm saying Norge is try to keep your little wet dream tonight under control. I don't want you _exerting_ yourself tonight. You need all the strength you can get for tomorow." He said, scrubbing his back with a few blades of grass, trying to get a clump of mud off of his skin.

"Oh? And whys that?" Nikolas asked, tone remaining neutral.

Mathias's smile grew bigger, his white teeth flashing. "Because I'm going to bed you tomorrow as my Summer Bride." He said. The Norwegians face immediately grew flame red. Everyone was silent except for Gilbert's wild cackles. Then the Norwegian sat up as quick as a deer, walked over to the Dane, and, faster than it happened, shoved the man into the Stream with a big _slap_!

"I would rather sleep with a Troll than with you." Nikolas sneered, storming off into the meadow, leaving the sputtering Dane drenched in the water, a stunned look on his face.

"Well, we all know who's like, not getting happy fun sex time now, don't we?" Feliks voice broke through the thick silence. Everyone burst into laughter, all except the Dane.

Then, Feliciano yawned and a few of the boys looked to the sun. It was getting late, dusk was fast approaching and there was still much to do. So, wearily, everyone picked up their sopping wet clothing and started to climb the small banks up to the meadow, Ludwig helping Feliciano carry his wreaths for the Maidens dance tomorrow, Tino offering to help as well.

As everyone started walking away, Tino was left picking up the extra flower headdresses. Picking the first one up, a heathery crown of daisies, he admired its workmanship. Feliciano was certainly a pro at making these. Tino brought the cords of flowers to his nose and lightly sniffed. He then sighed with bliss at the wonderful aroma, until he heard a noise. It was a peppering noise, like little feet on dirt, but not so quite feet. Maybe hooves? No…maybe…paws? Yes, Paws! Tino turned his head behind him just in time to see a little white ball of fluff bound toward him and launch itself at the Finn. Tino fell backwards and landed on his back as the little fur ball started making whining noises and licking up along Tino's face.

Then, as quickly as it occurred, the little ball of fur was plucked up from Tino's face and the Finn was able to breathe again. He let out a small laugh as he wiped his face, feeling the air cooling the slobber on his pale cheeks, then; looking down at the floor he saw a pair of feet. Not paws, but huge, bearish feet. Tino's face paled. He knew those feet.

Daring himself to look up, only wishing he hadn't as he became face to face with his worst nightmare. Berwald. Berwald, who was holding a cute little dog in his arm. Berwald, who was shirtless except for a leather cord dangling against his back connected to a long sword. Berwald, who was covered with threads of blood. Blood. He was covered in sticky, smelly, pungent blood. Tino threw his head back and fainted, landing with a thud on the sandy beaches of the river, praying to the Gods he would never wake up again.

…

But unfortunately he did wake up. Tino stretched his arms high above his head, yawning and smelling the clean air, the smell of the late blooming flowers filling his nostrils. He cracked one eye opened and gasped. The sun had gone down slowly, leaving the sky a purplish pink. He sat up in a whirl and quickly winced. His head ached and his neck felt sore. He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. How long had he been out? He wondered.

Pushing his feet up he stood up shakily, that is until he heard a pounding splash behind him. Looking behind him he almost fainted again. Tino's eyes met with a long and powerfully built back. Water droplets glistened lightly on the torso of the man, as the cool and lucid creek water slid off his bone pale skin like the softest of cloth. Tino felt his pulse in his mouth. He knew he was staring, knew the person could have turned around and caught the young Finn spying at any time, but still Tino could not tear his eyes away.

The man had cupped his hands in the river and brought the water to his head, cleaning his flaxen wheat colored hair. Tino had to stop himself from running into the water and touching that wild mess of hair. This man was more than handsome, he was frighteningly beautiful. And Tino hadn't even seen his face yet!

But, as a few seconds passed the person, much to Tino's delight, started to turn his head. Then, in that flicker of a gaze, Tino's eyes widened. He'd know that face anywhere. Blushing deeply the Finn couldn't believe it. He had been eyeing Berwald? Berwald was the handsome man Tino had laid his eyes on not but a few seconds ago? Tino felt hot embarrassment hit him dead in the face.

Then without warning, Berwald's cerulean eyes stabbed into him. Tino immediately stepped backward, hearing a soft crunch underneath his feet. Looking down quickly he saw in horror one of the wreaths that he had stepped on. Quickly hopping over the crown of flowers with his soft leathered boot, he gave out a string of Finnish swear words. He had broken it, a beautiful headdress of primrose and daisy, a work of art that Feli had created and he broke it under his heel. His heart sunk.

But before Tino could mourn the death of the crown, two paw like hands scooped up the crushed flowers and plucked them off the skeletal grass woven ring. Placing the ruined flowers lightly in the river, Berwald set to work re-shaping the oval that was the structure of the circlet till the grass was rightly set in place. He looked to Tino and back at the headband made of dried greenery.

"F'wers." Was all he said and yet Tino understood it perfectly. They were going to try to remake the headdress. So, together they walked along the river, the white little puppy in their company, searching the meadow for flowers. They walked a little ways down the river path till they found a new clump of daisy's to replace the old ones, and even a small thicket of heather. Sitting down the two men awkwardly inspected their mission, the white puppy affectionately looking at them from a clump of clover.

The few minutes working on the wreath were met with silence as Berwald didn't offer any conversation and Tino had to bite his tongue off to not leap into small talk. There was only one thing on the young Finn's mind. Berwald was handsome. The old Berwald, the one Tino knew as a child was gangly and awkwardly tall with stooping glasses and sharp, deep set eyes. The eyes were still there, but as the years went by Berwald seemed to fit into his gangly height, and his awkward body filled out. _Nicely._ Tino thought while biting his lip. Berwald was a great specimen of a man… Tall with a broad back, nicely sculpted muscles from all those years hunting, wide big hands that could bring the Finn so much pleasure….

Tino shook his head, remembering Feliks words. There was no way Berwald took a liking to Tino. They were friends. Berwald and he used to bathe as kids for_ Ilmatar's_ sake!* They used to crawl around the meadows looking for worms, and then dare Mathias to eat them for a bit of honey cake! There was nothing romantic between the two, and there was nothing Tino could do to change that. Berwald was not meant for him. He would find some nice big breasted Village girl for his bride tomorrow. Not Tino…

And then it hit the Finn like a ton of bricks. He had to get ready tonight! He would have to borrow one of Elizabeta's dresses and meet Feliks and Nikolas at the main pastures for the Flower Tradition with the rest of the women. Looking up at the sky he frowned. He only had maybe an hour to get ready for the flower picking, as it was already getting late. He sighed and looked back at Berwald, whose clumsy fingers were having a hard time tying a very stubborn daisy to the crown of fragile smelling plants.

Tino, letting his hands rest atop Berwald's, slipped the daisy through the wiry grass and tied it with his delicate hands. Smiling at his handy work he looked back at Berwald, whose eyes were wide, frightened, and whose cheeks were tinted. Tino raised his brows. _Don't tell me he got embarrassed from a little touch like that?_ He thought with surprise.

"Ah… Thank you for helping me fix it, Berwald. I really appreciate it." Tino said nervously. He sat up and cradled the wreath in his hands, picking up the other ones that had not been damaged. Once they were all in his arms he heard a whining noise and looked down to see the cute little puppy had sat beneath Tino's feet.

"Aww…" Tino, readjusting the flowers, bent down to pet the dog on the head. The little dog nuzzled her head into his palm and whimpered happily. While petting the dog, the crown of flowers on Tino's head that he forgot about fell down on the sand. Picking them up he placed them around the dogs neck with a smile. The dog, puzzled why the pretty flowers had been placed on her neck, just barked, wagging her tail.

Berwald wanted to be that dog—minus the flower part of course. He wanted to be caressed by the Finn's soft healing hands. And tomorrow, if all went well and Tino accepted him at the bonfires, perhaps he would be the one doing the caressing, he thought with a blush. Oh Tino, his lovely beautiful Tino. How the little Finn looked even more attractive to Berwald's sharp eyes. Berwald suddenly remembered when they were young.

Berwald recalled when all the other kids were unkind or distant to him simply because he was different. When Berwald would run home crying to his mamma and papa because no one had said a kind word to him. But that was until he met Tino. Tino, who lived with his cousin's Björt and Nikolas near the tall pine tree. Tino who Berwald grew to love, simply because the Finn was the only one who ever talked to Berwald. Tino, the sole reason for Berwald's heart to have a beat.

Berwald had done everything in his power to get the Finn to notice him. Berwald would wake up every morning at three, the time his papa got up to go milk the cows, and wait, with mitted hands, and a red runny nose, outside the pines to say "Hi" or "good m'rn'ng" (if he was feeling braver), to the little Finn. He would often bring Tino apples and set them by the Finn's long house steps, or bring him summer berries when the weather was best.

By the time Berwald was ten, he had already begun to learn to use a long sword, along with the Danish kid, Mathias who he disliked greatly. Mathias and him used to play sword games all the time, with wooden weapons and berry paste as war paint. And always Tino, Nikolas, and Björt would come and watch along with a few other kids.

It was that day that Berwald knew Tino would be his bride. On that day it was sunny and bright and all the adults were getting ready for Midsummer. The kids, who had been shooed away from the feast table by their mothers previously, all crowded around the meadow that they knew well and decided to play a game to use up time till the festival. It was a game they all knew well. Mathias had named it "The awesome adventures of Denmark and the stupid Swede." Berwald always did hate that title.

The game always started with Björt, the dastardly dragon, stealing the fair princess Tino and hiding her away in the castle—or a crappy pile of rocks that Gilbert had constructed using his "awesomeness" as he so put it. Mathias would play the narrator, Nikolas always played the none-too-helpful Troll, Feliks played Berwald's talking unicorn, and then there was Berwald himself who always played the knight. That was the only thing Berwald liked about that game. It always ended with him saving the pretty Princess.

But this game had a particular ending that Berwald would never forget. After the usual narration-Nikolas the Troll fighting Berwald by the stream, then Feliks the Unicorn leading Berwald to the castle, and then finally the epic battle of Berwald fighting Björt the dragon,-and then climbing up the castle stairs to where the fair Princess Tino lived. All the while the on looking kids always clapped. Then it was time for the game to end with Berwald giving a "kiss" to the fair Princess. Like a thousand times before it was just a timid brush of lips against the Finn's cheeks and it was done. The game was over. But not today. Today Berwald, ten year old Berwald wanted a _real_ kiss. So, after climbing the pile of rocks to the sitting Finn, hearing the cheers of the audience, he held Tino by the shoulders and kissed the boy full on the lips. Behind him the cheers quieted and the Finn, blushing and wide eyed pulled away with fright. It ended so quickly. Berwald was left on the pile of rocks, the rest of the kids long having left him. His princess gone. Berwald sighed from the memory.

Tino, noticing Berwald quietness for nearly five minutes, nervously laughed. "Ah…well, thanks again Berwald, but I have to get going." Tino said.

Berwald, brought back from his memory turned sharply to the Finn. He wondered quietly in his head if Tino remembered that day. He hoped Tino didn't hate him for it… Berwald just really wanted that kiss.

"T'no…" The name felt odd on his tongue. He had never spoken the Finnish boys name before and it gave him a little shiver.

Tino looked up at the use of his name. He had started walking up the drift path from the river and was following the burning lights of the village along the trail. "Hmm?" the Finn looked to Berwald, still walking. Berwald decided to follow, along with the little dog, waddling under the weight of the flowered collar.

"Do yoo rem'meber pl'ying in the m'adow?" he asked in his broken accent. Tino, having long since been able to decode the giant's words smiled.

"Yeah, that stupid adventure game of Mathias's. Why?" He asked, stepping over a rotting log, they were almost out of the meadow tall grass.

Berwald felt his face heat up. "D'yoo rem'meber the l'st t'me we pl'yed?" He asked timidly, trying to get the Finn's attention. Tino stopped in his tracks; the dog whining at the lack of movement began to nip at his light blue tunic.

Tino, eyes filled with nostalgia, slowly turned distant. Berwald swallowed hard.

"I remember…" Tino finally spoke, voice soft as butter, but as full of life as the earth. Berwald blinked. Tino remembered and he wasn't mad? He was okay with it? Berwald let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

Tino, blinking back emotions finally laughed nervously. "Ah… well I have to go now, don't laugh but I'm doing the flower tradition." Tino said, starting up his pace again.

Berwald's eyes snapped to attention. Flower Tradition? Does that mean that Tino…is looking for a husband? Berwald felt a glimmer of hope graze his heart.

"Yoo be in m'diens dance?" He asked, quickly. They were out of the meadow now, walking down the village paths. Women were outside dusting the doorstep, some stirring pots of potatoes on the fires, children standing on tip toe as they hung greenery and oak leaves around the stable doors and windows.

The night was alive, but tomorrow was when the real magic began.

Tino paused in mid step, reaching the tall pine that graced his aunt's long house. He turned to Berwald and gave a small smile, forcing himself to not blush. "I might be in the maidens dance tomorrow. Look for me if you wish." Tino stood on the tips of his toes and lightly kissed Berwald's brow, before pulling away and slipping inside the warm mortared house, leaving Berwald outside on the stoop, his face blushing like a Midsummer Bonfire.

….

Okay, I had LOTS of fun with this chapter. Yeah for going into Berwald's childhood! Don't worry this will get M rated soon :D REVIEW DAMNIT

Authors notes:

St. John's Festival- A lot of Countries trying to get rid of their Pagan roots tried to substitute Midsummer with St. John the Baptist patron Saint of Genoa, Florence.

Decorating Long houses and Stables with Greenery- Brought good luck and health to people and livestock.

"What do we have here? A Couple of Elves amidst us?"- Elves were very popular not only in English and Scottish lore but also In Danish and Norwegian; they were adult like faerie people in Scandinavian lore.

"Ah…It is Maiden Bright Eye!"- An Old Danish faerie tale about a girl who pulls up a clump of heather and finds a little man with a red cap who grants her three wishes.

"Berwald and he used to bathe as kids for_ Ilmatar's_ sake!*"- Ilmatar was a Finnish Goddess who is the mother of the Finnish Hero/God Väinämöinen when she was impregnated by the Sea wind.


	3. Dream of me my Bride

I'm so sorry I'm late on this guys! I feel so bad! I'm sorry its just school has been piling up and…well, anyway here's your story—Review please even though I do not deserve your awesomeness!

….

Tino's face was greeted with the warm air of the long house. He sniffed happily and smelled the wonderful odor of baking bread with hints of clove, boiling blackberries in heavy metal pots, and syrupy honey cakes rolled in oats. Tino smiled. He had finally gotten a big weight off of his chest and it felt good. Kissing Berwald…had somehow relieved him. He knew at that moment that he had liked Berwald for a very long time. How much he liked him the Finn still did not know. Did he want to take Berwald as his summer husband tomorrow? He didn't know. Did he want to dream of Berwald tonight? He didn't know. Did he want to mingle his body with Berwald's as they made passionate love? You bet your sweet Ass he did.

Stopping to blush, Tino slowly paused before walking along the dirt floor of the cramped long house till he heard a whine and a loud crashing noise. Passing by the small clumped kitchen where his aunt was stirring a fervently bubbling soup, he hurried to the loft ladder that led to the rafters where he and Nikolas slept. He quickly climbed up the rungs of the cedar made steps till he reached the hay filled bedding. Looking up he nearly fell off the ladder from laughter.

Elizabeta was pulling off Nikolas's tunic much to the boys protests and had begun to thrown a tight white linen dress over his small body. Nikolas shivered as the cool night air hit his exposed skin. Björt was giggling madly as he watched the pretty Hungarian woman dress his cousin as a female, taking delight in the scene even more as a decorative _hangerock_ was shoved over his head and tied in the front.* Tino watched with amusement as Nikolas gave a chain of curse words.

Once the garment was fastened by a broach made of bent bone to look like a cross, the Hungarian women smiled at her handy work. Nikolas was adorned with a cobalt blue _hangerock_ on top of the white woolen dress, his tunic, and a light blue sash was wrapped tightly up to his chest to keep the dress from slipping. Frowning slightly, he yanked the broach off and instead clipped it to his hair. Mumbling something about it getting in his way.

Tino laughed. Along with the bone broach Nikolas could almost have passed for a female, except for the lack of a chest. But, turning to Feliks Tino saw the Polish man had already solved that problem. The long haired blonde had stuffed his tunic to the brim with soft plush moss, and was now sewing a bolt of cloth over the tunic to keep the moss in place. After the last stitch was set, Feliks smiled and shoved his hands through the sleeves, setting the dress in place by patting down his homemade chest.

Tino giggled. That is, until he realized it was his turn next. Elizabeta quickly dived for the Finn and threw him onto the rickety wooden logs that held up the loft. Yanking off his boots, tunic, and trousers he was left in only his linen chemise. The Hungarian women smiled wickedly at the young Finn, and quickly got to work, Tino shrieking and throwing a fit the entire time.

"Hey…" An emotionless tone was heard from behind Tino. All eyes turned to the Norwegian with the placid eyes.

"Isn't that Berwald…?"

All eyes grew wide at the mention of the name. Necks craned to the left, trying to get a glimpse out of the dirtied window, until a loud gasp was sounded. Feliks shrieked with giggles and fell onto the hay, swooning and rolling around in the dried alfalfa, getting his dress filthy with the arid grass.

"It's like, really him! Ha-ha, he's just standing there! Like a dumb bear!" Feliks voice glittered. All eyes swooped back to the window.

"Oh, why, it is Berwald. And he's just standing in front of the house. I wonder why he's there… It's like he's frozen in place!" Elizabeta asked as her eyes trained on the tall man. Berwald was indeed in front of the long house. It took a good pair of trained eyes to see in the shallow dark, but it was the tall Swede. Tino felt his heart skip a beat. What if that kiss had been too much for him? It was just a brush of lips on his brow! Nothing to get too worked up about! But…Tino paused. Berwald had been alone for most of his life, and he didn't have many friends besides Tino and his cousins… No room for human contact.

Tino let a small smile grace his lips. Berwald could be so cute and innocent sometimes, to have just a small kiss spiral him into embarrassment.

"Hey! Like, either come up here and make out with Tino or like, get moving buddy!" Feliks stuck his head out of the small blown glass window, his voice annoyingly loud, painful to Tino's ears. In an instant Tino had smacked Feliks head and pushed him down, blushing furiously and glaring down at the Polish man.

Tino gave a quick look back at the window to see that Berwald's face had been dyed red by the Polish mans comment. Like a deer caught in a trap, Berwald turned around swiftly and ran down the road, disappearing into the shrubs. Tino sighed in relief, giving Feliks one more good rapt on his head.

Once Feliks had been shut up and all of them calm it only took a good ten minutes for all the boys to be dressed. Nikolas in his navy blue wool, Feliks in his verdant green fleece, and Tino in a nicely robin-blue dyed flaxen dress. All three boys had to admit, they did look convincing as women—and they were looking mighty _fine_, if they might add.

"Like, come on ladies, let's go and paint the town!" Feliks cheered, stepping a foot to the door, until he was yanked back by his loose collar.

"Oh no ladies, you have to do some work first!" Elizabeta said, smiling cruelly. She dragged the boys to the hearth and pointed at the steaming pans of food. Potatoes seasoned with rationed salt, pickled herring in clay jars long since forgotten, boiling blackberries strewn with sugar, and even piles upon piles of baking cornbread stuffed with dried apples and drizzled with Honey. Tino felt his mouth water at the sight. But these treats were not for him he thought, at least not all of them. No, they were for the men first, who were up till four this morning gathering scrap wood for the bonfire, and who were also collecting wild mushrooms and geese eggs, fish and rabbit for the real feast tomorrow. After tomorrow the food would be rationed again and the only scrumptious meals the boys would be eating would be porridge and stale rye bread. Tino grumbled in disappointment.

Elizabeta gave each boy a bit of leather and instructed them to carry each dish that she told them too. Feliks carrying the heavy rye bread fresh from the hearth, Tino carrying the roasted rabbit, Nikolas carrying a skirt full of freshly picked cherries, and even Björt carrying what butter was left in the churn from this morning, each one balancing the dish carefully.

Once they were sent outside they all felt silly. They were men. Dressed like women. Carrying food for hungry, hot, sweaty guys. They all sighed in unison.

Nikolas, heaving the small red fruit up in his bundled skirts decided to lead the way first. The Sun had long since gone down, but the camp was alive and burned like a thousand stars had been ignited along the hills. Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.* But for Tino, there was so much more work to be done. Tomorrow he would have to wake up early, bring the animals to drink, collect flowers for the May Pole, then come back and help with the cooking till the real fun began. The real fun…Tino paused.

The maidens dance. Did he dare do it? Did he dare to walk along the soft earth, torso naked, twirling with skirts that opened up like the petals of a morning glory? His body painted with wild swirls representing the Sun God, flowers in his hair to represent the Goddess? To walk along the women and the other young men like him? Searching for a summer husband, searching for a summer love. Tino shook his head, shaking some rabbit gristle on the floor. He let out a frustrated sound at the mess he had made, until, peering down at the floor, he saw the little white puppy from before, come up to the spill and begin to lick it away with a hungry pink tongue.

Then Tino stopped. Where there was a cute little puppy, there was sure to be-Tino looked up and saw the stubborn glare of Berwald's face—a scary ass monster. Tino made an unmanly yelp as he tried to steady his hands, being careful so as not to overthrown the cooked hare. Of all the times to meet the man, it had to be when Tino was in a women's dress. He put on a brave face and smiled up at Berwald, his face heating up like a freshly lit candle.

Holding out the plate of slowly cooling meat he offered it to Berwald.

"Hungry?" the small Finn asked sheepishly.

But Berwald didn't hear him, he was too absorbed in the fact that Tino, his little summer wife—as he decided to call him—was wearing women's clothing. Berwald could not take his eyes off of the Finn's delicate frame. Though most women's dresses were thick and bulky, Tinos fit him just right, hugging every curve and every tuck and wave, leaving less and less to the Imagination. And oh what an imagination it was.

Berwald could just see the little Finn, sprawled out on a bed of leaves, legs spread wide to the sky, head adorned with morning glories and heather, chest beating wildly and eyes squeezed tight, breathe tingling as Berwald lowered himself into the heat that was Tino. Thrusting and plunging, feeling the sweet warmth around him… Berwald immediately opened his eyes in embarrassment. He looked down again to see that Tino had sat down on a low table and was proceeding to fill a wooden bowl with a heavy helping of the roasted rabbit, along with a bit of stewed squash and a few slabs of bread. Berwald looked curiously at the table set with food.

Once Tino was done he wiped his hands on his dress and looked back at Berwald, face bright with accomplishment. "Well, Berwald, eat up! You have a big day tomorrow and so do I!" The Finn said merrily, wandering a little ways away to come back with a bubbling cup of mead. He set it down near the table and ushered the giant Swede to eat, taking a bit of bread and giving it to the little puppy who was now begging for a little snack.

Berwald, still thoroughly confused as to what was going on, just sat down and began to pick up the food, shoving bits of bread, spoonfuls of squash and rabbit meat into his mouth. He paused only once to wipe the messy stew off his chin, wanting to show some good manners in front of his wife. It was only till he spilled gravy on his jaw once more that he began to get frustrated. Eating with manners was such a chore for a man who lived nearly alone for the entirety of his life. But it was only until he felt the cool touch of a finger on his chin that he looked down to see that Tino had scooped up the extra food on Berwald's chin with his finger and licked the digit clean. Slow, tantalizingly, teasingly clean. Or at least that's how Berwald saw it. But Tino couldn't have had that in mind, not his pure innocent Tino…

After licking his finger with a deliberately slow stroke of his tongue Tino smiled to himself. He hoped that had gotten Berwald's blood going. If anything he wanted to catch the Swede's eye, and if playing a bit naughty did it, then Tino was all up for it. Tino was a man, he had needs too, and he was more that positive Berwald could fulfill those needs.

After sharing that small emotional walk down memory lane with the Swedish man Tino knew he was ready. He wanted Berwald and he wanted him bad. Problem was; how much did Berwald want him? Tino couldn't rely on silly rumors anymore. He needed to know if the Swede really was interested.

Furrowing his brow he started to brainstorm ideas. Perhaps if he really showed off tomorrow night at the bonfire dances? You know, really shake what his mama gave him! Tino blushed. Then maybe the Swede would take notice…

Tino was brought to attention as he heard a thick slap strike the warm summer air. Turning around he saw Mathias, a blazing red mark on his cheek and a few clusters of cherries in his hand. He was grinning from ear to ear at a furious Nikolas.

"What Norge? You were offering them so I took some." The Danish man began to say before he was cut off by the fierce glare of the Norwegian.

"You did not take _some_! You just deliberately stuck your hand down my crotch and groped me you pervert!" his voice was strained. Mathias just laughed.

"I was just practicing for tomorrow, when I _really take your cherry_…" He said wickedly, moving his face closer to the young Norsemen, their lips inches apart. Then another _smack_ was heard and Mathias was left on the floor, groaning in pain, Nikolas walking off curtly.

Tino was about to burst into giggles when he noticed Berwald had finished with his food. Tino, forgetting all about the stupid Danish man, reached to take the plate. But he paused when saw a pinkish scar on Berwald's palm. In an instant he cupped Berwald's paw like hand in his and turned over Berwald's palm to gaze and the gash. The wound had been treated, but poorly. Scowling, Tino took the corners of his tunic from underneath his dress, flashing Berwald a bit of skin in the process he guessed, and slowly ripped the cloth. Then, soaking the strip of cloth in a bit of water and honey nearby in a pitcher, he wrapped it neatly along Berwald's.

Dipping his head down, he lightly kissed the bandaged wound, eye lashes fluttering slightly as he raised his head again. Looking back at the giant he blushed and turned away. "Ah… there you go." He said, voice shy, losing all its courage it had not but a minute ago. Berwald felt his blush soar over his face even to his ears. His wife had treated his wound. His wife had actually _cared_ for him and kissed his palm. Well. This was just too much for Berwald to take.

Lunging his arms at the Finn with more assurance he pulled the Finnish man close and buried his head in Tino's shoulder, smelling the river, the meadow, the baking of bread and the sweet aroma of morning glories in the Finn's scent. How Berwald wanted more. He longed to just run his hands through that silky threaded hair, card his hands through it and feel it glide through his calloused fingers like spring water. He needed the Finn more than he needed air.

Breathing in that scent one more time, he lightly ghosted his lips over one of the Finn' ears, breath becoming unbearably hot. His mind raced and his heart burned. It was now or never.

"_Drömmen om__mig__ikväll__min__brud_."* It was said in such a harsh whisper, with the sweetest of dialects that Tino slid his eyes shut to envision the words across his mind. _Dream of me tonight my bride._ Tino shivered slightly, wracking his brain to remember every bit of Swedish he could remember. The language was harsh and rough, but on Berwald's tongue it was pure bliss.

The movement was swift and hurriedly, as if the giant was so embarrassed he dared not show his red stained face. And, as Berwald pushed away with the skittishness of a young Stag, Tino was left on the small wooden logs and table, his face bright pink, breath coming out with heaving sighs. Tino could do nothing more but stare at the man who was trotting down the fire lit path. Staring at his summer husband, his eyes wandering only to him.

…

After all the dirtied dishes were put away into pales of water to soak, and the working men fed, the people of the village began to flock to the back meadows, each carrying a lantern or candle decorated with summer flowers. It was at that time that Nikolas, Tino, and Feliks were marching down the road, skirts hiked up, heads held high, and there last shred of manliness' being devoured like a moth to a flame. It was time for the Flower Tradition.

Each man dreaded it to a certain extent. Feliks dreaded the fact that his dress would be ruined by the mid morning dew, Nikolas dreaded the actual dreaming of his "husband", and Tino dreaded the fact that Berwald might not been in his dream at all! What if he wasn't? What if Tino dreamed about Eduard, or Ivan, the creepy Russian man that lived in the meadow with all those sunflowers? Tino's face immediately turned pale and sickly.

He felt his feet pick up on the dirt, his hands spasmodically clutching the rough fabric of his dress. He was nervous. Looking next to him he saw a girl, who was from Belgium, skip merrily to the other awaiting maidens, a tall and big breasted Ukrainian girl named Katyusha and her sister Natalia, and a pretty petite Taiwanese girl with a big bright flower pinned to her dark chocolate colored hair. Even The Italian twins had come to participate in the tradition!

The rest of the faces were familiar, with crowns of Heather, Dogwood blossoms, Lily, Bedstraw, Caper and Cowslip all adorning the long and luscious hair. Tino, wearing his own headdress of morning glories, began to feel a bit self conscience. He wasn't nearly as beautiful as all these women. Who's to say Berwald wouldn't just pick one of them instead of him? Tino scowled sourly. He was only brought back from his thoughts as he began to trip over his feet as the parade grew more packed, girls of all ages, from sixteen to forty-five all lining up, giggles and chatting.

Some of them looked to Tino with bright eyes, others commenting on how cute and pretty he looked. But this did nothing to calm his nerves. He felt even sicker to his stomach when he saw that they were coming to the end of a thicket where the women would start to gather the flowers.

It would all happen in a blur, Tino scrambling over the brambles and grass, scooping up a flower here and a flower there till he collected seven and ran back to a low set fence were he would have to hop over it, dress and all, and make it back to his aunts long house. He felt like punching something.

But he was doing this for love. For Berwald's love to be exact. He sucked in a big gulp of air and stuck out his chest proudly as he was led to the front of the willow thicket. There, he stood waiting with all the women and his four friends, waiting the drums to beat and the pipes to play.

Then, like a dream, Tinos gaze was torn away from the field. Around a thicket of Ash saplings, some men began to form along the low fence that was to be hopped over, Tino recognizing most of them. It was the hunting party, they had come to watch. Tino felt his nerves become unraveled as he saw a tall, brooding figure with flaxen hair. Berwald. Why was Berwald here? Did he _want_ to make Tino lose his nerve?

Tino fiddled with his dress. He couldn't help but feel his legs growing weaker and weaker and his mouth drier and drier. Damn it all! Why did Berwald have to be here and watching? It was bad enough to be a guy dressed in public as a woman, but to have the Swede watching his every move? Tino could barely stand it.

Nikolas, sensing the disturbance in his friend's attitude, turned to his attention to the direction that the young Finn's eyes were gazed upon. He grimaced in annoyance. The Dane. The stupid Dane was leering at him-practically _drooling_. It was disgusting. Nikolas frowned from the view of the men and tugged Tino's sleeve, making the Finn turn around suddenly, cheeks red.

"Don't let them get to you. It's just some flower picking. Once it's over we can go home and forget all about it." Nikolas then turned his head back to the field, sighing inwardly with annoyance at all the giggling girls.

But Tino couldn't help but let it bug him! Those words, spoken with such care not but a few minutes ago! Berwald wanted Tino to dream of him tonight and by all the Gods Tino was going to dream of him! Setting a determined smile on his face the Finn looked back at the field. The outskirts of the brush were illuminated with dapples of summer flowers, in full bloom, getting ready to curl in on them for the night. Tino's eyes began to scan wildly. In a few seconds he had his mind set on seven flowers near an old cut down tree, he just had to be the first one to get there. But his calculating thoughts were brought to a steadfast halt as the thundering of a deer hide drum began to vibrate around the field.

In an instant the sweet and melodic sound of a Sheppard's pipe blazed through the tall winding grass. The first throng of girls began to dash into the meadow, pushing and shouting with giddiness. Tino just gawked. Was he supposed to look like that? All happy and girlish? Skipping at a breakneck speed? Well that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. Tino had a penis. And he sure as hell was going to act like it.

Starting off slowly with Nikolas, Feliks and the Italian twins at his heels, he began to prod the twisting ropes of grass till each boy went their own way to look for their perfect flower. Tino, having to swerve as the Belarusian girl with the long blonde hair almost mowed him down with her fierce running, muttering something that sounded faintly like "marriage…brother…marry me." Tino cringed.

Skirts bundled up in his hands he padded lightly to the fallen tree that he had mapped out earlier, using the moon and the torch light to guide him, though the sky would only be dark for a few more hours. Looking down he paused to smile as his gaze met with the vibrant color of a patch bellflower, their purplish hue looking soft and delicate in the torch light. Tino, giving thanks to the Gods, plucked the long stalk of the flower and lightly held it in his palm. One down, six to go.

Taking a few steps backwards he whirled his skirts around to spy a plump golden chrysanthemum. His face becoming bright he clutched the flower and added it to the other. Soon he had almost all seven. Along with the Bellflower, Chrysanthemum, bloodroot blossoms, hyacinth bud, and periwinkle Tino as well on his way to finishing. Clutching the threads of flowers in his fingers he looked up and felt his heart in his throat. Berwald was watching his every move.

Tino immediately lowered his gaze and felt a slow blush creep up on his face. The giant Swede, the source of Tino's affections, had his eyes pinned on the Finn. That creeping stare, filled with what most people would guess was malice, was burning. But Tino knew better. He had seen that gaze on Berwald before, when he was young, when they still talked. It was the look that Berwald would always give him before he kissed his cheek at the end of the adventure game. Only now the look had differed tremendously. What was once a glance of pure innocent puppy-love-had turned to stone hard lust. Berwald was watching with eyes set on a look of hunger, and it shook Tino to his core.

"Oh Gods…why? Why does he have to make my heart beat like a drum?" Tino asked himself, his breath quickening. He only needed two more flowers, then he would jump over the fence and be allowed to shut himself up in his warm little hay loft. Were he could think. He needed to think! He wanted Berwald, and Berwald wanted him. But how to go about it? It's not like Tino could just go up to the Swede and say 'insert Swedish fun-toy into Finnish hole'. Tino scrunched his face. Definitely not. So then. That was it. The Maidens dance would settle it.

Tino flowed his hands over the spiky weeds before wandering off to the rifts of dirt. When he was young he had watched the maidens dance, seeing the pretty women and men hop in the dirt circle against the bonfires glowing light. It was magical. The chanting and the happy yelps and glees as the drums beat on, the people clapping and hooting with laughter as the dancers speed up, testing their bodies, hopping on dainty feet, flowers looped into their hair, torsos bare, painted Runes decorating their bodies.* It was magical.

And then it was time for the leader of tribe, the one who was anointed the best. He got to choose first from the ring of dancers. It was always a pretty girl who was chosen, though sometimes the chosen bride was male, but hardly ever. It left Tino with a sore spot in his gut. Who's to Say Berwald would choose him? Tino shook his head. He couldn't dwell on this now! He had to find the rest of his flowers! So, swaying among the grasses he finally found the last of the buds underneath a few snarly oak saplings. A long stalked Ox eyed Daisy greeted him, its impending yellow eye glaring at Tino. He giggled. It reminded him of Berwald. He smiled at it fondly before scooping it up in his already growing bundle. Once all seven were collected he trotted back to the meadow entry way until a feathery touch clutched the skirts of his dress. Tino whirled his head around at the contact to see Felik's, a foolish grin on his lips, hands clutching a small bouquet.

Unknown to Tino, Berwald had been gazing at the young Finn from a distance for a while now. And at every flower the young male picked he prayed to the Gods it would help mystify Tino's dream so he could see the Swedish man. He wanted that delicate body of Tino's almost as much as he wanted his loving heart. Berwald would do anything for his little wife's heart, he only wished to cradle it and keep it safe forever. And damn if his little wife wore a dress every day, well it was something he could certainly get used to.

"How many flowers do you, like, have?" The grinning Polish man smiled brightly. Tino sputtered and looked down at his cluster of flowers, counting madly. "Um… Seven!" he squeaked out. Felik's squealed, clapping his hands together.

"Yay! Me too, come on, let's like, jump over the railing with Nikolas." In an instant the Polish man looped his arms with Tino and together they met up with Nikolas who was blatantly staring at a weed.

Behind the boys a few girls were scrambling in the brambles for the last of the dogwood blossoms, their skirts fluttering in the last hour of darkness. Tomorrow there would be no night, only day, and yet the bonfires will burn.* Tino smiled to himself. Tomorrow would be it.

"Come on! It's time to….RUN!" Felik's wined and with a kick to their heels all three boys launched into the air as fast as they could with the speed that could match the fastest horse. In a few seconds they had come to the fallen logs and hopped over each with ease till the looming fence was in the distance. Already several girls were attempting to daintily step over the rounded poles, but oh no, not for Tino. He was a man, and he would jump over that damn fence in a manly fashion. Smiling viciously, a glint in his eye, he sprung up, higher and higher, moccasins drifting over the log, he was gonna' make it he was gonna' make it he was gonna'—fall flat on his ass.

"Ouch…" he winced and rubbed his bum, picking off a few prickly thistles till he felt a throng of strong arms lift him up and set him on his feet. Looking up he let out a small mewl of embarrassment as the stony face of Berwald greeted him. "Yoo 'kay?" He asked, steadying the Finn, noticing the pretty wildflowers in his hands.

"Ah…Yes!" he squeaked again, shifting out of the bearish grip. Behind him he heard a thud and the knocking of wood to see that Felik's had thrown his entire weigh over the bar and was now stuck between the folds of the wood, his goofy smile still on his face.

"Uh…Liet, like, a little help?" he wriggled in the binds of the wood. In an instant the young Lithuanian shyly helped the blonde through the wood and set him down. Tino grew jealous of their relationship, how easily they could be romantic with facial expressions and light touches. He yearned for it.

"Hey, lookie' what I found!" The loud voice of the Dane rang around the trees. All eyes swerved to see a thrashing Nikolas atop the shoulders of the tall blonde, his cocky smile gleaming.

"Let go of me Danmark!" The exasperated growls of the Norse men shot through the now light filled night. But the Danish man just ignored him and swung him till he was holding him bridal style.

"So Norge, you gonna' dream of me tonight my sweet?"

"Bite me."

"Where?"

_Smack! _

"Like, anyway! We have to go now, but like, you guys should totally wait for us by the firelight if you like, catch my drift!" Tino and Nikolas's faces burned brightly like the new awakening sun. Did Felik's really have to be this damned foreword?

Denmark pouted but dropped the Norwegian lightly on the ground, but not before swinging him around and giving him a peck on the cheek—to which Nikolas slapped him again.

Once Nikolas and Felik's had wandered off, Tino was left with Berwald staring at him. Tino squirmed under the thick and heavy gaze, unsure what to do.

"Ah… well… See you tomorrow..." He stuttered before turning around quickly. But before he could escape he felt strong arms bind him again and drag him to a warm and solid body.

"Sweet dreams…" The words were unmarred and said through strained teeth, but they were still there none the less, and filled to the brim with an emotion that sounded to Tino like love.

And in an instant they were gone. Tino turned around to find that the Giant of a man had disappeared through the woods with the other group of men, leaving Tino alone, his heart throbbing with an emotion he could now name. Love.

…

"Hey…Bear-shit-for-brains-wald! I wanna' talk with you, maybe over a cup of mead?" The Danish man's voice made Berwald want to punch a tree.

"Why?" Berwald kept on walking to his longhouse by the Fir trees.

"Because! I wanna' talk manly stuff with you!" He said, catching up with Berwald's long strides.

Berwald didn't even break a sweat. "No."

Mathias frowned, but within a few seconds his face lit up to a sly grin. "What if I told you we could talk about Tino?" Berwald's eyes widened and his pace halted. He turned to Mathias and blinked.

"W'at 'bout h'm?" He asked. Mathias adjusted his tunic's skirt and brushed off some dirty from his hair.

"Well, first of all. What makes you so sure the little twerp will accept you at the fires? And even if he does, do you even know what to do with him? This isn't for little kids Berwald, this is for the grownups…" They had rounded the dirt road to come to the door of Berwald's long house, his family's carvings and knots welded into the ancient wood.

"I k'ow th't…" Berwald muttered softly. He knew this wasn't kids play. It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.* And it was also a chance to become untied with Tino, something Berwald liked the idea of very much.

"And who knows, what if you accidentally break him? Haha." Mathias clapped Berwald on the back. "He is a skinny lad ya' know."

Berwald took a shaky breath, but Denmark kept on talking. "I mean, do you even know how to do it?" he cackled. Berwald paused. Both men were outside the door still, the sun beginning to warm their backs and it was still late at night.

"I…k'nd of k'ow how…"Berwalds voice was marled, unsure of what he was saying.

"Well I hope so Berwald! Because if you don't pick him first and dazzle him at the bonfire, that Russian Ivan may just scoop him up and '_become one with him'_." Mathias shivered and waved his hands in the air.

"Anyway, good luck, oh and Berwald," Mathias started to walk down the little path, "tell me if he spits or swallows." Mathias cackled. Berwald frowned and walked back into the house. He half wondered what Mathias could have meant by 'spits or swallows'.

"M'ybe it's 'a D'nish th'ng…" he mumbled before closing the door behind him.

…

Tino had just finished helping Nikolas tuck Björt into his little cubby-like bed before following his cousin up the rung ladder to the hay rafters. He was nervous and his body showed it as his hands shook with each climb of the ladder. Once they reached the top Nikolas shook off the dress and apron and unpinned the bone clip that had held his hair in place. He then flopped on the scratchy hay along with Tino who was unpleasantly exhausted.

"Let's get this over with…" Nikolas lifted up his potato sack pillow and shoved the flowers underneath, grumbling as he laid his head down with a soft thud. Tino following suit, smiling to himself and praying to every God and Goddess he could name to enchant his dreams with visions of Berwald.

The birds were singing outside, confused at the change in the sky with the blazing light, and Tino admitted it did make it hard to sleep, but his bones were tired and his head hurt and his heart was sore from beating so fast. But no matter how much his body ached a smile still graced his lips. He would dream of his husband tonight, he was sure of it.

…

Yeah I'm a bitch :D anyway hoped you liked this chapter! I made it extra long for you guys!

Authors Notes:

"-a decorative _hangerock_ was shoved over his head and tied in the front.*"—this piece of clothing was an outer apron that Viking women wore so that their tunic would not get dirty; it also had various pockets to hold domestic tools. I just thought it'd be fucking hilarious to imagine Norway in one.

"Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.*"—on Midsummer Eve there is no night. All along Scandinavia except for Denmark, the sun is shining all day long and it never goes down till the next day. It's quite beautiful but a bitch to get some sleep in.

"_Drömmen om__mig__ikväll__min__brud_."* - shitty translation is shitty. It's supposed to translate to "Dream of me my Bride." Correct if wrong please!

"-painted Runes decorating their bodies.*"—Runes are an alphabet that was used most commonly in Norwegian and British history; they are still used today by Pagans everywhere, though they are mostly associated with the use of magic now.

"It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.*"—I follow the British traditions of this festival more than Scandinavian, but in the English festival of Beltane, couples would often run into the forest and consummate in the name of the Goddess and God. I kind of combined what I know from Beltane and Litha traditions on this one guys so bare with me, but most of the 'weddings' in the Viking days were mock weddings that were not real but just for one night.


	4. Damn Goats

So tired… Thank you for the all wonderful critic :D it really helped me! PLEASE REVIEW OR ELSE DOLPIHINS WILL EAT ME! :3

…

_Tino awoke to a million golden eyes with white eyelashes glaring at him. He sat up lazily to survey his soundings, repressing a yawn as his eyelashes flittered open and closed. The eyes around him began to slowly change across his vision and with giggling delight; he found them to morph into the tall stalks of Ox-eyed daisies. Tino's fingers flitted over the ragged leaves of the flowers, his smile bright and shining as the sun overhead. He seemed to find himself in a meadow of sorts, but where exactly he did not know._

_Tino bent his head to the flowers and felt his bones ache and his head feel heavy. With a strangled moan for slumber he stretched his legs. He wanted sleep, oh how he wanted sleep. He laid his head down among the soft cushioning flowers, smelling the promise of spring rain._

_He laid there for what must have been hours and yet sleep did not see fit to hold him in its grasp, frustrated, the Finn sat up. He scanned his eyes across the sky and noted that the sun had long since gone down and he was left alone in the dark, only a few solitary torches leaving ghostly light across his face. Feeling a bit frightened he began to twist his body around, looking for something to occupy his time so he would not be so anxious of the dark that engulfed him so. _

_Within moments his eyes found a glowing clump of daisies and a smile returned to his face. He took it as a sign from the Gods, moving his feet to his chest and plucked a healthy looking flower from the caked dirt.* The stalk bounded in the Finns hand as he held it close to his lips. This flower smelled familiar, looked familiar, reminded him of something or someone, yet he couldn't remember who…_

_ Tino inspected the flower closely, mimicking the bob of its head with his own, giggling slightly and marveling at how smooth the petals of the flower felt. If only he could remember why the flower was so familiar… the way it seemed to glare at him, yet also holding a loving stare, a devoted stare that surely only a flower could behold. Tino wished he could remember!_

_Feeling frustrated and angry with himself for not being able to remember, he—without a second thought—began to pluck the first petal off of the flower. Twisting the snow white petal between his thumb and finger he hummed to himself. Then, as if by accident, a slow thought crept across his eyes. _

_A face, blurry and shining began to form in Tino's mind. It was a man, a very handsome man, with flaxen hair, strong jaw, and the most beautiful sea stone eyes he had ever seen. Tino shut his eyes tight. Oh how he wished he remembered! The person's name was on the tip of his tongue…tip…of his…tongue… _

_Tino felt his cheeks grow red… his lips parted for a whisper of much needed air, fingers still twirling the petal. _

"Ber…Berwald." _The name thundered like a hurricane, like a crest of lightning and a wonderment of rain. The heated name became a shattering darkness that blew out the torches and made Tino shiver. That name, became the image in his mind. _

_With a shaky breath, Tino opened his eyes with awe to see that the mass of daisies in front of him had parted to give way to a berth of flames. His cheeks flared pink as he saw a figure standing tall and proud in front of the soaring and licking bonfire. That wide back, those powerful muscles like those of a lion, strong arms, slender fingers that could reach unimaginable places, and that terrifyingly handsome face… "_O-oh… Berwald_…" the words slid from his mouth like the sweetest of honey. He remembered. Oh how he remembered._

_Tino felt his feet pick him up as he swayed to Berwald; his small frame shivering as he slid through the flowers, dressed only in what he shockingly discovered was a small string skirt out of sheep hide.* Blushing slowly he noticed that Berwald wasn't wearing much more than the little Finn, except for a few patterns of paint on his well toned chest and a low drawn swath of blue cloth around his middle. But Tino certainly wasn't complaining. He wouldn't mind romping in the hay with the man all night long!_

_The little Finn desperately wanted the taller man with all his heart, and what better time now then at the bonfires? Smiling greedily to himself he slowly trotted over to the giant of a man, his heart soaring with delight as figure turned his body towards him._

_Almost immediately the Finn's heart rose with the speed of a flower blown into the wind. Berwald's face was so handsomely graced with strong features, and without his crudely made glasses showing against his eyes, he looked less annoyed and hostile. He was perfect in heart and body…Oh yes, defiantly in_ _**body**_…

_Without warning the Swede began to walk toward the young Finn, glare intent in his eyes, his muscles swaying haughtily underneath his undoubtedly hot flesh. Tino felt like he had died and gone to_ _**Valhalla**_**.*** _In a flash all his worries, all his doubt and hesitation were washed away as his blood began to burn through his veins, clouding his vision and making his heart pound violently in his chest. He wanted this, craved it,_ _**needed**__it, and he was about to have it!_

_After Berwald was but inches away from the Finn he seemed to just stare at him with attentive eyes, his gaze looking more solid, fixed, and lusty. It seemed to Tino he wasn't the only one that had naughty things in his mind. _

_Then at last the silence was broken as Berwald's finger padded over Tino's shoulders with soft hesitation, curiosity even, as if he was touching the fine fur of a seal skin. Tino could feel the tender and loving sensations that each glide of the finger brought, and it was enough to make him gasp for breath in the smoky presence of the bonfire. _

"Ber…Berwald…"

_Tino's breath hitched in his throat as those long and tentative fingers glided over his bare collar bone, with shyness still guiding their actions. But Tino didn't want shyness. He wanted bold, daring, and lusty movements. So, with a look set of determination, Tino brought his small fingers to rest on Berwald's strong and solid chest. He bit his lip, eyes carefully watching for any changes in Berwald's movements, not wanting to scare the poor giant. But, when Berwald's body did not flinch from the touch, Tino felt his eyes set with courage. _

_With a slighter change of boldness his fingers began to trail a long and vigorous line up and down Berwald's chest, feeling every bump and upturn of the Swede's six-pack and beyond. It was only when pale fingers began to grow bashful and clumsy as they reached the tip of the rough swath of cloth wrapped ever-so-loosely around the tall man's hip bones. Tino swallowed hard. All it took was a little flick of his wrist and the swath would flitter to the floor, leaving Tino with a prize worthy of a thousand of_ _**Freyja's**_ _red-golden tears!* _

_He looked up at Berwald, as if asking permission. The Swede's heated glare washed over him, making him shiver with delight. Berwald took Tino's hands in his own and guided them downward, towards the jutting cloth, to which Tino inspected, had formed a bulge. Looking down at his own string skirt he felt his manhood straining against the loose cloth and hide, he was already becoming wet and impatient. _

_He had never felt like this before at it was all Berwald's fault! Berwald, the man in front of him who smelled like freshly shaven pine boughs, whose body could make the Gods cry out with envy, and whose sharp eyes could make Tino whimper with lust by just a mere glance. It was Berwald who made Tino weak to his knees, made his manhood cry out for something the Finn dared not name. It was Berwald who Tino loved._

_Taking a big breath of the fire scorched air that faintly smelled of daisies, Tino slinked his hands over the blue cloth. He leaned into Berwald's ear, smiling softly when he felt the Swede shiver beneath him, his giant hands resting on Tino's waist. _

_Tino's lean fingers gripped the wiry cloth._ _**I want this, I want this!**_ _He repeated in his mind over and over again with a lusty smile. Oh yes… He wanted this. _

_Fingers poised over the cloth, lips still against Berwald's ear, he slowly whispered the words he had been dying to say. _

"_I love you my summer husband…"_

_The cloth fell to the floor. _

….

"Tino…Tino? Wake up!" An annoyed voice shook through Tino's head and made him groan with irritation. He sat up wearily as he felt the tugging on his tunic grow more persistent with every second. When his eyes finally opened to reveal anger filled violet eyes, his face scrunched up into a scowl.

"What Nikolas?" he breathed, a yawn making its way to the back of his throat. He was having a perfectly good dream before Nikolas had to go and ruin it! The Finn threw his woolen blanket off of his chest and sat up against a pile of hay, tiredly rubbing the heel of his palm into his brow, trying desperately to dispel the dark circles under his eyes.

It was only when Nikolas started to laugh and slide down the ladder did Tino turn to him.

"Still wetting the bed, eh Tino?" Nikolas laughed once more before climbing down the ladder. Tino, stunned and confused as to what his cousin just said, looked down at his body.

Oh….

Tino's faces heated like a kettle on the hearth. He had…wet his pants… Feeling childish embarrassment his him he immediately threw the blanket off him and sat on his knees, looking down at his stained tunic. But something was strange; he hadn't wet his bed since he was six years old… So what was?

Ah….

Tino smacked his hands to his face and braced himself as his cheeks heated into an even brighter blush. Peeling off the soiled tunic he sighed with defeat. It was just as he expected. Long twirls of sluggish white liquid stained against his thighs and manhood… He had had a wet dream.

Tino cried out into the empty loft with frustration. It was all Berwald's fault! Damn the Swede for making him have such an effect on the young Finn! Tino swore the man was driving him insane. But wait! Tino's face immediately lit up with sheer happiness. He had dreamed of Berwald. Tino clutched his hands to his chest, his lips upturned into a dazzling smile. Berwald was to be his summer husband. Tino flopped on his back and began to roll on the hay with fits of giggles, that is, until he remembered his currant problem.

Grumbling and crawling down to the top of the ladder, he scooped up a bit of the hay that sadly had been soiled and wrapped it up in the now dirtied blanket. Well, at least tonight he would be able to have a chance at a bit of fun, his stomach churning with giddiness, his heart pounding. He only hoped Berwald would pick him.

After disposing of the hay and placing the blanket in the washing pale, he began to hunt for some clean clothes, his cheeks growing hot as he remembered his attire in his dream.

"Well… I did dream of him." Tino said to himself, an exuberant smile gracing over his pale face. Maybe the Gods would be kind to him! Maybe Berwald would accept him at the maidens dance! Maybe they would live happily ever after! Sure… and little white doggies would fly out of his ass…

After placing the dirty tunic in the wash pale and shuffling on a crisp white summer tunic, Tino joined Nikolas in the small dirt floored living room. His aunt was busying herself with pouring a healthy helping of barely stew into each of their bowls, warning Björt not to eat it too fast or he'd get a stomach ache.

Tino shuffled to a stool and sat down, biting down into a piece of rye bread, his stomach already starting to feel like a thousand butterflies had hatched inside. This day would go by dreadfully slowly. First he would help Nikolas with the chores, and then he would have to help the men set up the wood for the bonfire, and _then_ get ready for the maidens dance. He sighed, his mouth still chewing the roughly crusted bread.

"So, who did you two boys dream of?" Tino's aunt asked excitedly, her eyes the exact same icy blue as Nikolas's except they held more warmth. Tino's face immediately went red.

"Ah…" he began but was cut off by Nikolas's monotone mumble.

"Tino dreamed of Berwald." It was said curtly, before the Norwegian boy delicately took another spoon full of the barley mash.

"I-I did not!" Tino defended himself, his palms flat on the little round table.

Nikolas smirked over a mouthful of stew before swallowing. "Yes you did. I heard you. All night long you were chanting his name. It must have been some dream…"

Tino, feeling that he was trapped, just scoffed. "Oh-Oh yeah? Well I bet you dreamed of Mathias!" Tino said, his voice still holding a dab of embarrassment from the Norsemen's last comment.

Nikolas's face remained neutral. "So? What if I did." He said slowly.

It was Nikolas's mother turn to cut in now. "Well, Nikolas, that means he will be your husband." The shockingly blonde women said, taking out a few small cutting knives from her dress pocket. She turned her back and began to cut open a few round squashes left in a wicker basket.

Nikolas shrugged. "Let's hope not." He said, finishing the last of his bowl of food before placing it in a water pale and taking a hold of Tino's tunic sleeve.

"Come on. We have to let out the goats." He said pointedly. Tino grumbled but followed him out the small wooden door, hearing with seething annoyance as Björt began to sing a song of all the children Tino was going to have with 'the scary Troll-giant.' Tino sighed. One of these days he really had to take his little Icelandic cousin to the middle of the forest and let a Valravn eat the damned brat.*

...

Berwald had woken up to the sounds of heavy foot prints outside his door and the clanking of a cobblers morning work. He groaned and nudged his blanket closer against his face to keep the blinding light out of his eyes. He had had a restless sleep, his mind racing of images of his little Finnish bride.

Under the cover of nightfall Berwald let his imagination run wild, his mind conjuring up little perverted scenarios in which Berwald would either happen upon the little Finn bathing in a stream _naked_, or a little dream in which Berwald would open up his long house door to see Tino lying on his bear skin rug, his nicely curved ass high in the air, _naked_. Or one of Berwald's favorite scenarios in which Berwald finds Tino in the forest picking berries, _naked_. Actually, any scenario would do, as long as the little Finn was, well…Naked.

Berwald sighed into the warming air of his big cradle like bed. It had taken him forever to find enough timber to build the damn thing, and enough hay and sheep skins to fill it, but after a few weeks he had gotten the bed built. He blushed slightly as he picked a few loose straws of grass free from the bedding. The bed was just big enough to fit two, a large tall Swede, and a short petite Finn. Berwald smiled. Ah… Tonight he would not be sleeping alone. Oh no, tonight he would be with his bride.

…

"Perkele!"* Tino shouted into the air as he was once again shoved to the rickety fence of the goat pasture. One of the goats, a stubby Billy goat named _Tanngniostr ____and his twin brother, __Tanngrisnt______had tag teamed and tripped Tino to the mossy floor before chasing him around the paddock with demented looks in their rectangular pupils.* Or at least that's how it seemed to Tino. To Nikolas who was watching the platinum blonde with amusement it just looked like Tino was getting his ass kicked by two dumb animals. _

___It was only when the trickier of the goats bleated and pawed at the ground did Tino's eyes widened. With a shout and a mocking yelp he grinned at the goat and bent his head, mimicking its movements, his hands poised like curved goat horns. _

___He laughed and 'baw-ed' as best as he could, snorting like a wild creature. _

_"__You're just pissing it off more." Nikolas warned from his safe seating on a higher rail connected to the barn. But Tino didn't listen. There was no way in this world or the next that he would be bested by a goat. So, with a last warriors cry he lunged at the horned animal with all his might. The animal bucked upward before charging itself, its eyes irritable. _

___Within three seconds the animal had managed to knock Tino off his ass and into a pile of a brown questionable substance. _

___Tino sighed with disgust before standing hunched over. The damned beast had managed to scrape his hip, as a small rough slit of blood began to dribble from the skin. He cursed in the warm summer air before turning back to the animal. The second male goat had joined his brother, both pawing at the ground, baw-ing their heads off. _

_"__Oh shit…" Tino breathed. Norway just laughed and clapped his hands together._

_"__Better run! Once they've tasted Finnish blood there's no going back!" He hollered at his cousin, rolling from laughter off the railings and into a pile of dried grass. Tino turned his face to glare at his cousin before facing the maddening goats again._

___Scurrying backward he fluttered his hands around for the gate latch as the goats began to walk towards him. Maybe pissing off animals with sharp horns was not the smartest thing he could have done. Nope, defiantly not. _

_"__Guess I have no choice." Tino would have to jump the fence before the goats could chew him to pieces. Steadying his hands atop one of the moss covered railings, he bit his lip. The goats were no more than six feet away from him now, the sheep chewing lazily behind them, watching the show. _

_"__Hey Tino!" a voice made Tino turn around, his face still showing a bit of fear. When he saw the owner—or owners of the voice, his face immediately turned red. The hunting party from last night had come to watch the little Finnish boy battle the twin goats… Oh the Gods really hated him didn't they?_

___It must have been Antonio who had called Tino first, because he was farther ahead of the others, a small red swath of wool dangling from his arms. When the Spaniard reached the fence he rested his elbows on the railing. _

_"__Hey Tino, heard you were battling a monster, si?" his said, his voice showing slight amusement. _

_"__Kesesese Ja! Like a big horned monster or something awesome like that!" Gilbert cackled, swinging his legs over the railing. _

_"__Shouldn't you guys be helping collect firewood?" Tino asked bitterly, his eyes still staring down the goats. He had to somehow swing his legs over the rough wood before the goats charged and shoved a horn or two up his ass. He cringed. Damn Goats. _

_"__Here, use this!" Antonio handed the red swath to Tino with a smile on his face. Tino's face gawked with confusion till The Spaniard moved his fingers back and forth, imitating the flutter of a blanket. "To tease it." He explained, pointing to the goats that were now beginning to glare. _

___Tino nodded with determination, flapping the blanket like a mad man, trying to get the goats attention. _

_Tanngniostr____ began to square his haunches, ready to charge while his brother was spooked by the flutter of the blanket. Tino smiled grimly. It was the last stand. _

___With a fleeting cry in his throat, and the blanket crushed in between his fingers he flew with speed._

_"__I am a warrior!" he yelled with courageous power. _

_"__He's and idiot." Nikolas whispered, his eyes becoming a dulled blue. _

_…_

___After finding something to eat in his small grain storage, __and stopping to imagine his little Finnish wife naked in said grain storage____, Berwald had shut and latched his long house door and stepped into the blistering warmth that was early afternoon. He hadn't meant to sleep in this late, but somehow the nights events had taken their toll and his body, and well, he wanted to be well rested and fit for tonight. He wanted to be in perfect health for pleasing his wife. _

___Berwald, hiding his blush as new thoughts popped into his head, spotted a familiar face coming round a bought of aspen trees. The person's auburn hair bouncing in the light breeze. Berwald placed a hand on the person's shoulder, trying his best to get rid of his glare. _

___In a few seconds Feliciano's smiling face screeched into a frightened face, before calming down. "Ah… Berwald, ve~ you scared me!" he said, laughing nervously. Berwald furroed his brows. _

_"__G'monin'." He said._

_"__Ah, Good morning!" The little Italian repeated, his voice gaining back its chipper appeal. _

_"__Wh're ev'ryb'dy?" Berwald asked, scanning his eyes over the main sector of the village. A majority of the houses had their doors wide open, with women cooking goodies on the hearth or boiling mead, and men outside herding animals or getting scraps of wood ready. A few children were romping around, playing with stray dogs, but Berwald couldn't find his usual group; or his cute wife._

_"__Ve? Oh! There out at Tino and Nikolas's farm. Apparently Tino is trying to wrestle their two goats!" Feliciano happy to give out information that didn't have to do with pasta, nodded vigorously. _

_"__Th'nks…" Berwald mumbled before making his way to the farm. All along the short minute trek Berwald couldn't help but worry. _

_Tino shouldn't be out wrestling barn animals… He should be tucked in bed where it's safe…____ Berwald thought in his head, his eyes showing signs of worriment. Once he reached the small farm he was astonished to find the entire hunting party lounging near the fencing, grinning and laughing like there was no tomorrow. As Berwald wandered closer his eyes widened. _

___There in the middle of a stack of Hay stood his little Finn, wiping the dirt from his brow, holding a tattered red cloth, in front of him was one of the most irritable goats Berwald had ever seen. He remembered how Mathias had once dared him to sneak into the pasture at night and cut a bit of hair from one of the goat's beard. It had ended badly, with Berwald tripping on a fallen log, waking up the damned goat and being chased around the pasture till dawn. He had made Mathias promise not to tell anyone or he would tell the whole village that Mathias played with dolls—which he did._

___Now it was time for a bit of revenge. Walking up to the fence, heads turned and eyes immediately widened as they saw his presence, each man backing up to let him through. Pushing off one of the fence rails with ease, he swung over onto the other side of the corral and cracked his neck side to side, palms faced out. _

___Tino turned behind him to see the tall and darkly features of the man he had been dreaming about all night. His face immediately turned beat red and his throat let out a strangled yelp. Per-fucking-kele.*_

___Looking down quickly he saw his perfect white tunic had become smudged with dirt and green smears of grass, his hair covered in weeds and alfalfa seeds. He laughed weakly, unsure of what to say. _

___Berwald looked to him for a mere second, just to make sure he was all in one piece before turning to the __beasty____ animal that dared to harass his poor wife. A shuddered hush passed over the spectators as they watched the giant Sweden walk towards the little Finn. Berwald's towering height did wonders to make Tino look like a tiny ant, and the Finn tried hard not to flinch as the strongly built man patted his head with an affectionate touch. _

___Then, without warning, the giant of a man hooked his thumbs through his tunic and shuffled it off. Tino, eyes wide, could only stare at the well toned chest in front of him, reminding himself that he was in front of other people and that he had to resist temptation to run his hands over that body. _

___Berwald, ignoring the confused and even fixed glares he was earning, dabbed and rubbed the edges of the navy blue tunic's sleeves onto the smudges along Tino's face and arms, trying his best to clean him up. Once he was satisfied, his eyes still cornering the bleating goat, he scooted Tino over and under the railing to safety, collecting the swath cloth of red. _

_"__Now we're going to get a real fight!" Mathias voice cackled over the quietness of the farm. Some village men and women had come to watch the event that had suddenly turned into a game. _

___Berwald slowly circled the goat, licking his lips and twitching his palms upward. He would show he was strong and take revenge on this damned animal for hurting his wife! With a swift cry that scared a few people from their seats on the railings, Berwald lunged at the animal. The goat, seeing that the Swede was actually going to put up a fight, jerked upward and slammed its head into Berwald chest, almost knocking him down. But Berwald was faster than the animal, and with an upturn of his wrist he threw the red cloth over the animal's head and twisted it downward, holding the animal in place, its hind legs kicking. He had won. _

___Everyone around him shouted and hollered with cries of joy and enthusiasm. They were pleased with the display of strength and their grins on their face showed it. But, then something happened that made the people quiet. After letting the goat go Berwald hopped the fence, but before he could rejoin his wife, who to his happiness was smiling, he felt a harsh tap his against his shoulder. Looking behind him he saw Mathias, a grin scattering over his face. _

_"__So you beat the shit out of a goat, big deal. Doesn't mean the Finn's gonna' open his legs for you. You got a long way to go Swede." Mathias said harshly to Berwald, a cruel grin on his face. He laughed abruptly before turning around to join Nikolas who was latching up the coral gate and locking it up. _

___Berwald's face, bright as the reddest apple, began to scrunch up with doubt. Maybe Berwald did have to improve a bit more to really get the Finn's attention. He had already gotten a few kisses and such, but, he wanted to impress Tino, make him proud to be his wife… Berwald turned to the little Finn in question who was busying picking wood shavings from his tunic, his hand holding Berwald's discarded shirt. _

___Walking up to the Finn he lightly held his hands out for his clothing, watching with curiosity as Tino's face looked up at his, a blush plastered on his cute little face. Berwald tried his best to smile; he really did love the petite little man._

_"__Oh… Berwald… You look hurt…" Tino said, his voice worried. Tino held Berwald's bare arm with his pale hands, looking down the Swede's shoulder. A big purple bruise had formed on Berwald's bone-colored skin. Berwald shrugged and looked away. Best for his wife not to worry about him._

___Tino bit his lip and set his eyes in a stubborn gaze. "Berwald, come with me, we've got to get you cleaned up!" Tino said, dragging a stumbling and confused Berwald to the small pathway that led to the Finn's longhouse. _

_"__W'ere we goin'?" Berwald asked, actually enjoying being pulled by the little Finn, his hand in his. Tino didn't bother to turn around, but kept his feet in a fast past up to the small door to the longhouse. _

_"__To my house of course! I'll have to treat your wounds!" Tino said matter of fact. _

___Berwald swallowed hard. He was going to go into Tino's hall, see Tino's room, and be taken care of by the Finnish boy? Oh this was Berwald's lucky day._

_"__Oh! And if some of your wounds are below your waist then you might have to strip of your clothes…" Tino added after a second though, his face heating up. _

___Berwald's eyes widened. Strip? Him? Berwald blushed._

_"__Only if y'll str'p too…" Berwald mumbled beneath his breath. _

_"__Hmm? What did you say Berwald?" Tino asked, unlocking the latch from the door. _

_"__Nuthin' Berwald quickly tried to hide his blush. It was going to be along day…_

_…__._

___I'm sorry, its seems like the only thing I wrote in this chapter is about how fucking insane goats are XD _

___Shit…A lot of Authors Notes:_

___-"__He took it as a sign from the Gods, moving his feet to his chest and plucked a healthy looking flower from the caked dirt."*_-In Herb magic Daisies are the flower used for love and lust, ruled by Venus. Tino takes this as a sign that his love with be shown to him 3

_-"his small frame shivering as he slid through the flowers, dressed only in what he shockingly discovered was a small string skirt out of sheep hide."*_-Again my perverted mind at work. A sting skirt is just as it sounds, a skirt made out of strings, corded sinew strings to be exact. Women wore them in the summer when it got too hot. Though they were more apparent in the Bronze Age let's just say that they fit into this time period. ^^"

-_ "Tino felt like he had died and gone to_ _**Valhalla**_**."* **Valhalla, in Norse mythology, is when slain warriors who fought gallantly, go to wait for Ragnarok (The end of the world in Norse Mythology).

-_ "All it took was a little flick of his wrist and the swath would flitter to the floor, leaving Tino with a prize worthy of a thousand of_ _**Freyja's**_ _red-golden tears!"*_-Freyja was the Norse Goddess of fertility, and she was so distraught at not being able to see her husband as often as she could, that she would cry tears of red gold. Much as to how Chuck Norris's tears cure cancer.

- "Tino sighed. One of these days he really had to take his little Icelandic cousin to the middle of the forest and let a Valravn eat the damned brat.*"—A Valravn is more popular in Danish lore but eh, whatever. It was a raven that had eaten dead warriors flesh on the battle field thereby inheriting human intelligence and supernatural powers. The often went after children in the middle of the night and ate them to gain human/and or/wolf forms.

-"Perkele!"*-Finnish profanity

- "One of the goats, a stubby Billy goat named _Tanngniostr ____and his twin brother, __Tanngrisnt______had tag teamed…*"-The story of Tanngniostr and his brother Tangrisnt were that they were both goats who pulled_ Thor's chariot. When Thor would stop for the night at a person's home, he would slaughter the goats to feed the family, they put the bones in the goat's skin and they would be reborn again for the next journey.

___Per-fucking-kele.*- me pretending to be clever _


	5. Bride I will be

Hello readers who thought I was dead! :D I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but here, for your enjoyment, is chapter five! REVIEW OR ELSE I WILL BE TORN APART BY GOATS!

…

Berwald was led up the cobbled steps of the low cut long house where Tino lived with his cousin's and aunt. Heaps of drying winter leaves waiting by the scrap log pile to be burned later tonight for _Valborg's_ greeted Berwald with an array of dull colors.* Two thinly stripped birch saplings were tied together with sinew, cascades of garland fluttering and twirling underneath the door eaves.* Berwald smiled softly once more to himself. When he was a lad he was so fearful of walking up the steps to the small Finn's house, bashful and embarrassed to even be in the Finnish boy's presence. Berwald was clumsy, awkward, and gangly, but Tino, oh his lovely Tino was smooth, delicate, and graceful. Berwald took a small peek up at the petite boy, still aware that his hands were clasped in his, his lengthy fingers wrapping carefully along Tino's dainty ones.

To Berwald's amazement Tino had a soft glowing blush poised on his silk-like cheeks. It only made Berwald's heart beat more with the thought that maybe, perhaps; maybe, the Finn was blushing due to Berwald. He bit his lip and tensed his shoulders, trying his best to not say something stupid.

Before Berwald could think anymore about his wife's adorably red face, Tino had nudged the heavy latch on the door and pushed it open with a creek. The wood groaned and skidded over the dirt floor before allowing the Finn and cautious Swede to pass. This was Tino's home. Berwald wanted to make an impression of good will to Tino and his family; he wanted to portray himself as the best choice for Tino's husband. He wanted to prove that he was Tino's best choice for the bonfires.

"Täti! I'm home!" Tino called out into the surprsingly warm air, and with Berwald's dissapointment, let go of the Swede's hands.* When no answer was returned he shrugged and wandered off into the big living space which was covered with rugs on ever wall rung. Berwald, hunched slightly from the stubbornly short celling, took in a humming breath of all the wonderful smells of the house.

He could see by the hearth a few racks of lamb boiled and hissed in a low set cauldron, the lumpy contents of barley mash spoiled with honey thickening in small cakes for the children later on at the feast. The sweet air mixed in with the sour scent of drying skins near an opened window waffed through Berwald's nose with welcome.

Berwald smiled to himself. This was a home that had a family, a home that Berwald would like to live in one day with his beloved wife. Ah yes he hoped to all the Gods that he could remmeber that once day he would be blessed to have a young son and Tino for his wife. Oh how he hopped.

Walking along the mantle he spied a few clay jars of pickled herring, his stomach growling slightly, angry at Berwald for only eating a light breakfast that morning. Berwald sighed and tried to hush his hungry stomach.

Tino, seeming to hear Berwald's stomach growl, smiled up at the Swede and motioned for him to sit down on some willow mats while he fixed him a snack. The Swede did as he was told, watching the Finn wander off into the cooking area, producing a few goodies on a clay bowl.

Tino offered Berwald the bowl ladened with a few strips of pickled herring, herbed potatoes, and a few breaks of bread, the Finn was even sweet enough to slip a small honey cake from the wooden platter uptop on the carved table. Berwald smiled kindly at the Finn, wondering if this was what if felt like to have a little wife. Berwald hoped so.

While Berwald was eating quietly, with more acquired manners, mind you, Tino set off to rinsing a few strips of cloth that his aunt had weaved just this morning in hot water. After Tino had ruined his clean white tunic this morning while wrestling the goats out of his foolishness, he began to wonder what he would change into for tonight. He would have to borrow one of Nikolas's festival tunics, maybe the one with the dark blue strip at the collar. He sighed. He wished he hadn't gotten his white tunic dirty… he was planning on wearing it tonight when he… danced.

Tino's gut wrenched in his stomach. Oh dear Gods he was dancing tonight…Tino dropped one of the linen strips in the wash pale, he swallowed hard. Glancing behind his back he looked to Berwald who was gruffly chewing a wedge of rye bread. Tino quickly turned back, his face anew with tints of fine red. So far the two had kissed multiple times and had made their feelings know to each other on more than one occasion. So why was it so awkward? Tino sighed with distress.

After fishing the strips of cloth out from the pale he took a small clump of honey and some crushed comfrey roots and set them on a leather strip. Then, balancing the dripping linen he walked back to the cross legged Swede who was finishing the last bits of his meal. Only the small honey cake remained untouched on the rim of the bowl.

"You don't like sweets?" Tino ask, smiling when Berwald stood up and placed his bowl in the wash pale, along with taking a hold of some of the dripping cloth to help with the Finn's burden.

"Mmmmhhh… I l'ke sw't th'ngs…" Berwald mumbled. _I like you, don't I?_ Berwald thought bashfully.

Tino laughed quietly. "Then why don't you take a bite, we can share it if you like?" he offered, leading the Swede towards the hay loft that he and Nikolas shared. Berwald followed obediently.

"It okay. Yoo t'ke." Berwald urged the Finn, smiling slightly. Tino was just too cute and incredibly kind; it only made Berwald want him more than ever.

Tino frowned playfully but nodded, scooting closer to the Swede.

Berwald held up the small cake between his fingers for the Finn, expecting Tino take it and eat it. What he was NOT expecting was for Tino to lean in and slowly nibble off a bit of the honeyed treat with his teeth, his lips lightly touching Berwald's fingers for a few fleeting seconds, his eyes seeming to smirk at the tall Swede. Berwald blinked in amazement. Once the small last bit of the cake was eaten, Tino slowly licked Berwald's index finger, careful to not miss a single drop of honey.

Tino held his hand over his mouth as he chewed, pleased with himself and his little show. If that didn't get Berwald's blood racing he didn't know what would!

Tino smiled, his heart pounding all the way to his throat. "Well um… Now I need you to climb up to the loft, it will be easier to treat your wounds with the added light." Tino instructed, motioning for Berwald to follow him up the ladder. Tino quickly turned around to hide his growing blush. After a few more seconds of heated staring Berwald did as he was told, only whishing he hadn't.

Following Tino up the ladder was not the smartest thing Berwald could do. Not now or ever. As Berwald hooked his hands on the shaven boughs of the wood he looked up to see the most wonderful thing his two eyes had ever laid eyes on. Right in front of him was the ass of the Gods!

Tino's finely sculpted bottom was barely a few inches away from the Swede's vision, and all he could do was drool. He had to control himself. He had to wait till tonight to bed Tino, but damn it all to Hel!* That beautiful ass… it was like it was calling him, mocking him… Just a little pinch couldn't hurt, just one…little…pinch?

"Perkele!" Tino yelped in the musty air of the loft. He fell foreword into the hay and sat up bewildered. He looked up to see Berwald, eyes wide, face blushing madly red.

"Um…." The tall giant breathed. Oh damn…Oh damn… Oh damn….!

Tino stared for a few seconds before laughing wildly, rubbing his sore ass.

"Haha, I told Nikolas to shave those damn pine boughs. I'm always getting poked by the splinters in the ladder rungs! Sorry about that." Tino laughed awkwardly before turning back to the task at hand.

He wadded in the deep hay till he came to the blankets of his makeshift bed. Patting down the blankets he set the leather with the bits of ingredients on a loose board that Nikolas and he used to practice their runes on during the winter nights.* He turned back behind him to find Berwald, still poised by the last few steps of the ladder, his face incredibly red.

"Berwald? Are you okay? I can't treat your wounds if your all the way down their!" Tino laughed, grabbing the Swede's wrist and heaving him up. Berwald shook his head and turned away.

"Hnnnn." He grunted into the air, ashamed of his weak actions. But it wasn't his fault Tino had a perfect body, a body Berwald wouldn't mind mapping out with his fingers… lips…or tongue… or even his manhood—

"Hnnnfff!" Berwald grunted with pain as a burning hot cloth was wedged against his wounded chest, steaming slightly. Tino pressed the cloth into the wound deeper, apologizing like a mad man for causing Berwald pain.

Then, after a few seconds, Tino removed the cloth and replaced it with a slab of honey. Coating the ripped flesh lightly he smoothed the syrupy nectar around the Swede's skin to ensure fast healing. Tino leaned in quietly before peppering the mixture of crushed comfrey roots to the wound, before patching it up with a dry long strip of cloth.*

"Tack…Hnn… Kiitos…" Berwald murmured after a second thought.* Tino smiled brightly.

"Wow! Your Finnish pronunciation is very good." Tino complimented Berwald as he set to work on his shoulder, still mildly aware that the muscular Swede was indeed shirtless.

"Th'nks…" _I learned it for you…_ Berwald thought in his head. He blushed more fiercely in the shining light from the blown glass windows. It was true. When he was little during the winter when his father hadn't needed him to watch the herds of reindeer, Berwald would coop himself in his little cubby-like bed and read from the many stone tablets of the Finnish alphabet and the stretched goat hide bound books full of fables of Finnish lore. It had taken him three winters, but he had taught himself the basics of the Finnish language, all for his little wife.

After Finland had done all he could for the bruise he took Berwald's paw like hand and set it on his lap. Berwald's lungs stopped their intake of breath, trying to reel out the images from his dreams and fantasies—which was hard to do since his hand was practically resting in his wife's lap.

Tino hummed as he slowly peeled the dirtied cloth that he had fastened on Berwald's cut hand the night before. Inspecting the slowly healing wound he smiled.

"You heal fast Berwald, like a true warrior. Your cut shouldn't give you too much trouble, but your shoulder will be mildly sore tonight if you try to leap the bonfires. Also, try not to get your bandages wet if you can help it, and it might hurt a bit peeling it off once there healed." Tino drawled on, cleaning his hands on his already soiled tunic, then, thinking for a second, he pulled out Berwald's dark blue tunic that he had tied to a sash around his waist.

"Here you go." Tino said, holding out the rough wooly cloth for Berwald. Berwald nodded in thanks before sliding the thick and broad cloth back in place over his shoulders. Berwald was adjusting the strings to the tunic's collar when his eyes caught the sight of brilliant color.

"Fl'w'rs…" he whispered, his eyes fixed on the brightness of the leaves tucked neatly underneath a potatoes sack pillow. Tino swallowed hard before smacking his hands down on the pillow.

"What flowers?" He muttered shyly, sitting his bum on the pile of hay that was his bed. Berwald raised up one of his brows. "Yoo had fl'e'rs l'st n'ght…. Did yoo h've dream?" Berwald asked, craning his head closer to the Finn's, staring at him with such intensity it made Tino's toes curl.

Tino yelped softly, still not used to the Swede's intent glare. "Ah…maybe." He eluded, wedging his body closer to the flowers. Berwald blinked once before resuming his unintentional glare.

"Why th't hay wet…?" Berwald asked, gesturing with his head to a pile of hay that looked to be damp. Tino paled. He could have sworn he removed all of the soiled hay from his dream!

_!_

"Ah… Björt spilled… milk? Yes! Milk!" Tino muttered quickly.

Berwald looked skeptically at the Finn before letting it go.

"So… who did yoo dream of?" Berwald muttered, not meeting Tino's eyes directly, choosing to stare at the elk patterns on the woolen blanket sprawled on the hay.

Tino fidgeted in his seat, feeling the damp crunch of the flowers stems underneath him. He bit his lip and rolled his tongue across his teeth. Could he tell Berwald? Or would he burst from embarrassment. He had been dreaming of the damn Swede naked in his bed not but a few hours ago, and now Berwald wanted to know who he dreamed of? Perkele his life…

Tino exhaled loudly. "Er… Well…. You know him." Tino trailed off.

Berwald's heart stopped. He pressed his hands to the hay and leaned back. Berwald knew him? So then… Tino didn't dream of the Swede but someone else? Berwald felt his world crumbling down. His face was immediately torn into an unconscious scowl that sent shivers of fear down Tino's spine. Berwald squared his jaw and bit down hard, willing himself to stand still instead of run from the loft like the damn coward that he felt like. But the sensation still hurt. His wife had not dreamed of him.

"He has the most shockingly blonde hair in this world and the next; it's like the wheat fields that grow from the north during the last Harvest, wild and strong…" Tino took a quick glance at the giant before him, trying to soften Berwald's glare with a smile of his own.

" His eyes are like smoothed glass that the ocean brings ashore from ravaged ship wreck, lustrous but misty, holding so many emotions at once, the only portal that tells me what he's really thinking…" Tino slowly extended his weight to his forearms as he slinked quietly to the Swede.

"His body is of that of a lion from the far off places that our ancestors traveled. Taunt muscles flexing and moving, long arms and wonderfully long legs, with fingers that I would always dream would one day touch me with gentleness and passion…" Tino slowly cupped his hands to Berwald's thin but strong fingers, lightly squeezing them.

"But it's his heart that I love the most. The heart of a King Stag wild and proud, loving but strong. He is the one I will choose at the bonfires…" Tino's voice slowly hushed now, his eyes trained on Berwald's in a dead lock.

"Berwald… Do you know who I dreamt of last night?" Tino asked, his voice cracking slightly from what he guessed was added lust.

Berwald swallowed deep in his throat before clumsily shaking his head in a silent 'no'.

Tino smiled and gave his fingers another quick squeeze, noting that Berwald's hands had become mildly sweaty, his glasses foggy up slightly. Tino leaned in closer to the giant of a man, resting his hands lightly on the Swede's thighs, smirking softly to himself. His lips grazed against Berwald's throat oh-so-slowly before fluttering against his ear. Tino smiled devilishly.

"I dreamt of… You." He felt Berwald's pulse quicken with satisfaction.

"M-me…?" Berwald's voice huskily asked, unsure of himself. Tino laughed lightly, nodding vigorously. He splayed his hands against Berwald's chest like he had so fondly done in his dream. He smiled and happily sighed as Berwald's cautious hands wrapped themselves delicately against Tino's back.

Berwald could barely believe it. The Gods had given him a sign, they had enchanted Tino's dreams and now… Now Berwald was sure that he was to be Tino's husband! He felt his heart leap with a new found joy that bubbled within him like a hot spring or a volcano. He felt so happy, he wanted to celebrate, and it seemed like Tino did too.

Slowly, softly and a bit awkwardly, two huge hands carelessly sat Tino atop Berwald's lap, Berwald's eyes never leaving those of the Finn's.

Tino blinked softly as he was moved atop the Swede's body, his heart thudding in his chest like the hunting horns that blazed outside, signaling the hunting party's departure. In that moment Tino forgot everything, his chores, his soiled tunic, and the flowers underneath his bed, and the dance— all that mattered now was Berwald and him. That's how Tino wanted to keep it.

Tino loving cupped his hands to Berwald's cheeks and leaned in closely, keeping eye contact like his life depended on it. And perhaps it did. Perhaps that solid stare that made Tino shiver to his very core was what kept his blood rushing and his heart floating. Berwald was the key to his survival as primitive as it sounded, but then again it _was_ a primitive urge that the young Finn felt almost every second he was in the mans presence. It was Berwald that made him feel this way.

"T'no…" The voice almost startled the Finn, but swiftly he regained his composure.

"Mmmhhh, Yes Berwald?" Tino asked, his eyes shifting slightly to notice how much green was actually in Berwald's eyes as well as blue.

"W…Will ya… Be m' w'fe…" Berwald muttered, eyes incredibly serious yet tender.

Tino's breath hitched in his throat, his throat becoming dry.

"Yes…" was all he said before their lips were crashed together in a kiss that meant the same thing to them both. New found love.

…

Authors Note:

I was going to make this chapter longer but since I'll probably update it this weekend I thought I'd just put it in the next chapter. FINALLY THINGS ARE ACTUALLY MOVING BETWEEN THE TWO! (Tino you damn lusty Finn!)

…

-"Heaps of drying winter leaves waiting by the scrap log pile to be burned later tonight for _Valborg's_ greeted Berwald with an array of dull colors.*"—**Valborg** Is basically an evening festival in some parts of Finland and Sweden where winter leaves are burned for the signaling of summer.

- "Two thinly stripped birch saplings were tied together with sinew, cascades of garland fluttering and twirling underneath the door eaves.*"—Finnish and Norwegian tradition. In Norway garlands of greenery were hung above doors and barns for good luck while in Finland the hung two birch saplings from the eaves of their door to welcome visitors.

-"Täti! I'm home!"—"Aunt" in Finnish.

- "He had to control himself. He had to wait till tonight to bed Tino, but damn it all to Hel!*"—Norse Goddess of Helhein… or Hell.

- "Patting down the blankets he set the leather with the bits of ingredients on a loose board that Nikolas and he used to practice their runes on during the winter nights.*"—Alphabet that was the main source of written works in Scandinavia and Britain, still used and practiced today by many Pagans.

- "Tino leaned in quietly before peppering the mixture of crushed comfrey roots to the wound, before patching it up with a dry long strip of cloth.*"—herb that helped heal wounds and stopped bruising and blood loss with cuts. Honey was also a healing agent discovered by the Egyptians.

-"Tack…Hnn… Kiitos…" Berwald murmured after a second thought.*- "Tack"= thank you (In Swedish) "Kiitos"= thank you (In Finnish)


	6. SwedishFinnish babies

Welcome to the next chapter! Review or a Troll will eat all the dolphins in the world! Oh and by the way, I don't hate Russia, so sorry If It seems like it, it's just he always seems to be the bad guy in Finnish history-which is sad to say but it works for this fic. :D

…

Berwald didn't know why but he felt like doing a back flip accompanied by three summersaults and a handstand. After Tino had pressed his lips to his own chapped ones, Berwald's heart spasmodically pounded against his chest and he felt like he couldn't get enough air if his life depended on it.

Had he heard correctly? Did Tino really agree to be his bride? Berwald felt the widest smile he ever experienced spread across his lips. He wrapped his arms tighter around the little Finn, feeling Tino twist and shiver on the Swede's lap.

Tino stroked Berwald's forearm, leaning in closely so that he could take in a whiff of Berwald's scent. The scent of verdant pines and scorching hot earth, of wild brooks flooding the spring fields and dried saw grass in the summer. The scent of a man. Tino sighed into the kiss as he felt Berwald's thumbs massaging the bottom of Tino's back, making the Finn blush softly. _Perhaps Berwald wasn't as physically awkward as I thought…?_ Tino mused in his head. Berwald calmly dipped his hands down to Tino's thigh… _Oh yes… He's very physically aware…_ Tino thought with a spark of humor.

Tino's toes curled as he took a peek at Berwald's face. His glasses that were once perched atop his slender nose had jutted downwards, showing his eyes clearly and unmarred. Dark and lusty, dangerous and satisfying. Tino bit his bottom lip to keep the damnable shivers from wracking his body.

Slowly the seconds ticked by and Tino grew hungry for something more than kissing. He knew that he would have to keep himself a maiden to actually participate in the maidens dance, but maybe a bit of fooling around before the bonfires couldn't hurt?* Tino smiled to himself. Surely sampling a bit of Berwald wouldn't be prohibited? And it seemed as if the Swede wouldn't mind one bit.

Tino's smile turned smug for a few fleeting seconds as he and Berwald lightly battled their lips for dominance, Tino slowly giving in when the Swede took control and nibbled cautiously against Tino's petal-like-lips. It felt so good to just be in the Swede's embrace! Tino wondered with a courageous mind what it would feel like to be filled to the brim with the Swede. Tino shivered suddenly, conjuring up naughty images.

Berwald's heart raced like an unleashed dragon upon the Tor, spiraling and soaring, leaping and jumping. It was only when Tino took his little devilish hands and shoved Berwald down on the hay; not harshly-but with as much force as could be still called gentle—did Berwald take on a stunned expression. Berwald blinked up at the Finn who had now seated himself on his lap.

"Berwald…" Tino's voice was husky, full of heat. It made Berwald's stomach toss and stagger.

"Hnnn?" He grunted, trying desperately to wish away the fantasies that were now hatching in his mind. Though such was hard to do when Tino was teasingly untying the cords to Berwald's tunic till a good amount of flesh was shown of his bare chest.

"Berwald… Since I am to be your Summer Bride…" Tino began but quickly turned his head away, his heart slowly retreating back to its bashful state.

"Mmm?" Berwald sat his head up, his eyes wide with wonder and curiosity.

Tino fluttered his eyelashes, doing his best to appear innocent when really he could have jumped on the Swede and really rocked his world at any given moment… Damned if Berwald wasn't the sexiest thing Tino had ever laid eyes on.

"W-would it be okay… If um…"

"Y'ah?"

"If…If I could touch your—"

_Cough!_

"Like, Tino, I think you're supposed to wait till after the Bonfires to touch his Swedish goods." A voice hummed with flitted humor.

Tino's hands froze, his eyes wide with embarrassment. He unwillingly turned his head to the side to see not one, but three pairs of eyes trained on him. _Oh Gods kill me!_

Feliks, Elizabeta, and Nikolas were perched on the lofts ladder, smiling smugly, their eye's glittering with laughter. Tino wanted to die. Oh how he wished Thor's hammer would strike him across the forehead.*

"Ah…. He…I… He fell! And um… I was just, helping him up!" Tino stuttered as his face heated up like a winter candle.

Nikolas raised his eyebrows. "You were helping him up by sitting on him?" He asked, his voice mocking. Tino bit his lip and glared at his cousin before hastily crawling off of Berwald. Berwald turned his face to the side, not wanting to show his red stained cheeks. He was never good with crowds to begin with but this—being caught in the act of kissing—it was too much for his big bearish heart to take!

"Well, anyway. Though I am grateful for that wonderful show of manly love, I'm afraid I have to snag Tino from you for just a bit Berwald. I promise you can have him back by tonight, and then you two can continue what you _so shamelessly_ started." Elizabeta winked towards the taller Scandinavian. Berwald made a pained noise in his throat, reminding Tino of a trapped rabbit.

Tino turned back to Berwald who was blushing from ear to ear, his hand to his mouth. Tino bit his lip and turned back to Nikolas.

"I-I'll be right down. Let me just show Berwald out, okay?" Tino squeaked, trying his best to shoo the unwanted company out of the loft.

Feliks frowned and flipped his hair back. "Like, fine! We'll be waiting outside. And if like, you're not outside by one minute —I'm telling everyone you're, like, pregnant with little Swedish babies!" Feliks voice shuttered into a roll of laughter. Tino clenched his fist, his face fuming red.

"Lähtö!" Tino shouted with all his might.* He shoved Feliks back, hearing a soft thud then more laughter as Elizabeta and Nikolas hopped down from the ladder and glided out the door, Feliks complaining that the fall ruined his hair.

After the three left, Tino turned, unwillingly, to Berwald. The tall Swede had trained his eyes to his soft leather boots, his glasses back in place on his slender nose. Tino smiled timidly.

"I'm sorry about that..." he mumbled softly. Berwald looked up at the seated Finn before shrugging.

" 's not yo'r fa'lt..." he stated evenly, his voice still holding a bit of hoarseness from their activities before.

Berwald had been so close, but maybe it had been for the best. Though the consummation at the Bonfire was not a real wedding, Berwald wondered if Tino would really agree to be not just his summer bride—but his bride for the many seasons to come.* Berwald looked up at the boy that he had so fondly grown to love. His soft dove like hair, eyes of cavernous amethyst gems, and his skin like the softest of rabbits fur. He loved Tino, and he couldn't wait for tonight when they became united under the Midsummer sun.

"Ah…Well, I should go Berwald, I still have a lot to do…" Tino feebly spoke, his legs dangling off the side of the loft. His bare feet slid down the ladder rungs, followed by the harsh thud of Berwald's own.

Berwald followed Tino out of the loft awkwardly. In the back of his head he was still wondering what it was that Tino wanted to touch before they were so embarrassingly interrupted. What could he have wanted? His arm? His leg? Hmmm….Berwald furrowed his face. This was going to take some thought.

But before Berwald could think much more on the questioning thoughts, Tino had led him to the small living area of the Finn's home. Instantly Berwald heard a high pitch giggle greet his ears. He turned around sharply to see a woman, drying a glazed jug with the edges of her skirts. Her eyes blinked a few times before they filled with crystal jubilance. Berwald swallowed hard.

"Tino! Har mannen din kommer på besøk?" His aunt spoke with joy.* She quickly sat the jug on the small round eating table before scurrying over to Berwald who seemed surprised by the women's wonderfully pleased eyes. He didn't understand Norwegian that entirely well, but he felt like she had said something kind to him so he did his best to smile.

"Nei!" Tino responded back with hysterical speed.* But his Aunt had already latched her arms around Berwald's strong bicep, pinching slightly. Her golden locks nestled against Berwald's chest.

"Berwald! I haven't seen you since you were about ten years old, when you used to come early in the morning and drop off apples from your father's farm for Tino! You were always such a sweet, little—er… tall boy! You know Tino was talking about you just this morning!" she beamed, looking up at the spectacled man. Berwald blinked twice.

"He… was?" Berwald mumbled.

Tino's face sparked a violent crimson. Oh he did not need this right now!

"Yes! Why, just this morning he was telling us how he dreamed of you!" she said, nodding off towards Tino who was glued to the spot.

_Perkele I want to die…Perkele! Perkele! Perkele!_ Tino's eye's twitched, his brain desperately trying to stop this embarrassing wreck that was about to unfold. Oh dear Odin why him?*

"He…He dr'am of m'?" Berwald looked down to the woman who was now fixing his tunic collar that had twisted.

"Täti!" Tino hissed, glaring at his aunt with all his might.*

"Oh, I'm sorry Tino!" His aunt said, finally ackowledging her nephews precense before turning back to the tall and dumbfounded Swede.

"You are Swedish right? I heard you are a wonderful warrior! Please, take good care of my little nephew! Be a good provider for my _Baby Finny-Finn_!" Tino's aunt gushed, her tears of happiness soaking into Berwald's tunic. The edges of his eyes twitched into a serious stare as he began to nod vigorously. He clasped the woman's hands and bent down before her, making Tino jump with surprise.

"I w'll t'ke good c're of yur' n'phew!" He said with his eyes still trained on Tino's aunt. His aunt shrieked for joy, wiping her tears on the edge of her _hangerock.*_

Tino's face—if possible at this point—burst into flames. He grabbed Berwald's tunic sleeve and pulled him through the door. Instantly his eyes met with the blinding sensation of light. Both men shielded their eyes grudgingly. Already the sounds of the festivities were beginning. Girls were running around the village, all dressed in pretty white robes, hair adorned with flower crowns. Men wearing breeches and holiday tunics had pasted war paint scrawled over their bodies; crowns of oak weaved in their hair. It was a welcoming sight to Tino. The festival was drawing nearer and nearer.

"There you, like, are! We were getting like, tired of waiting and junk!" Tino heard Feliks whine.

"Sorry… We got side tracked because—"

"You were like, making Swedish-Finnish babies?"

"No! Auntie was going to have one of her long "get-to-know-you" talks with Berwald so I pulled him out of there." Tino groaned, reminding himself to drown Feliks in the river when he had the chance.

Elizabeta clapped her hands together. "Well, now due to your dilly-dallying we don't have much time. Say good bye to the nice studley Swede Tino! We have to get you three ladies ready for the maidens dance!" The brunette Hungarian smiled. She shoved the boys down the dusty road towards the shady forest path, promising to follow along shortly. Tino sheepishly smiled at the tall lumbering Swede before hurrying down the path with the other two boys.

Then Elizabeta slyly directed her gaze to Berwald, walking over to the Swede. Berwald, knowing that this woman could mean trouble, took a small step back.

"Relax Berwald, I'm not going to yell at you. I just want to warn you—be good to Tino. He has a lot of friends looking out for him so do your best to not hurt him. Okay?" Elizabeta said to him, staring down his glare, a brilliant smile perched on her face. Berwald's shoulders eased downward, his crease in his brow slowly melting away.

"Hnnn… I t'ke good c're of 'm." Berwald assured the Hungarian woman. He could tell she really cared for Tino and it made Berwald happy that his cute little wife had such caring friends.

Elizabeta smiled once more at the tall Swede, her hands on her hips. Nodding once, she placed one of her slender hands on Berwald's shoulder in a friendly fashion.

"That's good to hear! Oh, and a word of advice! Tonight at the bonfires, when you…you know…" Elizabeta winked her long eyelashes at Berwald, making his face heat up at her insinuation. "Well, when you 'claim Finland's vital regions', here's a tip! Tino is ticklish behind the ear! Try it, see what happens!" The girl devilishly smiled before flaunting backward, skipping down the lane to catch up with the other three boys, leaving Berwald to stand and stare in the middle of the village road. Berwald furrowed his brow. _Tickle 'm behind the ears?_

"Arf! Arf!"

Berwald felt something stubbornly nipping at the throngs of his boots. Nodding downward he spied the same little ball of fluff that had been following him for the past few days. Smiling slightly he picked up the bouncing pup, laughing softly when she yipped with happiness, licking Berwald's face excitingly. Berwald paused and, wrestling the tiny white pup to his left arm, stroked the dog behind her ear. She immediately closed her glassy obsidian eyes and whined happily panting with joy in the summer air. Berwald smiled before turning around and walking down the dirt laden path.

"B'h'nd the e'rs, huh?" he muttered to himself, the puppy wriggling in his arms the entire time, yipping and barking her little head off.

…

Tino sputtered wildly as another bought of water hit him in the face. Feliks laughed rowdily as he watched his Finnish friend dive underneath the jewel colored stream to escape the onslaught of the spraying water.

From a safer distance away, Norway stood in the shallow end, fanatically scrubbing his winter snow skin with a scrap of clean linen. All three boys were supposed to be cleansing themselves clean for tonight's festival as instructed by Elizabeta. But while they were washing Tino found a whole school of minnows! They were so cute that he and Feliks started to chase them in the pools of water. One thing led to another and pretty soon they had started a water fight. And everyone knows you simply cannot stop a water fight once it's in progress. That is—unless you're in the presence of a crazy frying pan wielding Hungarian.

After nearly swiping Tino's head clean off, both boys were willing to calm down into the currants of the slowly tugging stream. After each boy had dunked their head in water and was deemed clean by Elizabeta, the brunette instructed the boys to play a bit in the water while she went off to find them some clothes for tonight's activities at the bonfire.

…

Mathias had been ducking under low tree branches and brambles trying to find the most perfect treasure for his dear Nikolas. Though it didn't look like it, the Dane really did love the vapid-eyed Norwegian, and tonight he was going to prove it. He smiled cheekily.

"Then Norge will have to let me into his pants!" he cackled, trotting over a few oak roots. Once he rounded the soft trickles of a tiny creek he turned skyward. The sun blazed at him with mocking ferocity, making him shield his eyes, sweat dripping from his neck. _Damn it's hot…_ he thought with annoyance. Training his eyes once more on the tiny creek he bent downward on his knees and splashed his hands numbingly through the cool water, sighing happily as he scooped some up and rubbed it on his neck. _Oh now that hits the spot…._

Having his fill of the dribbling water he scanned around the small shrubs that surrounded him. A few thorny brambles, and some dandelion buds gnarled and faded stooped out of the soft muddy earth—but nothing else of much inter-…wait. What was that?

Mathias craned his head to the right to see, on a craggily rock, a long coupled stem adorned with small soft-star-like petals flushed outwards from the stones. Mathias grinned wildly before reaching out and plucking the gorgeous dot-like flowers. Once in his possession he tucked them safely in a little knapsack that was slung across his shoulders. Sighing with relief at finding the perfect flower for his little summer bride, Mathias stretched his long arms. He thought he deserved a reward for a job well done. Maybe a little dip in the river to cool him off? He yawned in the summer heat. Yes, that sounded wonderful.

Slinking out from the painful blades of the saw-grass, Mathias breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the soft roaring of the big stream that fed the great lake Torne.* he quickly shuffled out of his tunic and boots, stockings and belt when he heard an enormous splash across from where he was perched. Turning his head quizzically he saw a sight that made his mouth water. His beauty, Nikolas, was buck naked in the rivers currant. Mathias could safely say he could now die happy.

The water glided smoothly over the Norwegians pale ice-like skin, making Mathias shiver with want. Nikolas had discarded his blonde clip that he had so fondly grown attached to, so his blonde hair soaked down his face, making his eyes stand out even more with their opaque luster. Mathias groaned with want. Damn the lithe Norwegian and his tempting body.

But, not to let the awesomeness of the situation go without some attention, Mathias sat kneeling down on the soft moss that jutted from the river banks. Smiling to himself he decided to watch the show for a bit, biting his thumb to keep from losing his cool. _Oh Norge… Come tonight, you'll be begging to be mine…_ he thought wickedly.

He must have been sitting there for a good five minutes before he heard a few more pairs of familiar voices. Tilting his head up, he saw the faces of Tino and Feliks wade over to his Norwegian beauty. Mathias smiled wickedly to himself. The gears in his brain—what he had of a brain—began to churn and rotate.

He thought of a plan that would provide him with a bit of entertainment until the festivities started, a wonderful plan he would like to add. Nodding to himself, his wolfish grin still in place, he quickly gathered up his discarded tunic and boots and trotted off into the woods to test out his trick. He would make Loki the Trickster proud with this prank, he was sure of it!*

…

Berwald had just finished herding his sixth cow into the low set pen of the meadow. Twisting his fingers in time with the rough flaxen cord, Berwald securely tied a rope of faded green cloth with a brass bell on the animal's drooping neck, smiling softly as the old milk cow hauntingly pushed her wet muzzle into Berwald's tunic, giving him a wet kiss. Berwald nudged the animal away with a rumbling chuckle and sent her down the meadow to rejoin the other cattle. It was important for each of the cows and bulls to be blessed tonight under the sun while the Bonfire still spewed ash.* For the village, cattle was their main wealth and survival. Without the assurance of the livestock's health, the village would collapse.

Berwald had volunteered to bring the cattle in from the stream and lead them into the snug meadow while they waited for the animal blessing. It had been hard work, Antonio, Gilbert, and Ludwig offering to help him as well with the goats and few ponies the village possessed... But the work kept his mind focus on the jobs at hand—and not of a certain violet eyed Finn. He bit the inside of his cheek while he thumped another milk cow on her rump, sending her mooing along to the rest of the herd.

He had to help the rest of the men drag the scraps of wood to the dirt clearing near the tall Troll's boulders, and then he would have to wash and dress himself in warriors garb for the Great Warriors Dance.* He sighed, his stomach churning painfully in his gut for the third time that day.

After everyone had eaten their fill of the huge feast, the animals blessed and back in the paddocks, and the mead passed round and round, Berwald and the other men would get to circle the fires of the blazing torches. They would all be decked out with animal hides, bear's claws and wolf's teeth, scribed runes roughly tattooed on their bare bodies to tell of their accomplishments in the past years. Berwald looked up the sun, shielding his eyes as the waving heat drooped on his calloused skin.

After each warrior showed his strengths they then sat down cross legged on the mats placed in a circle along the fire. Then… the real fun would begin.

The maidens would scurry bashfully into the circle of men, giddy and blushing, some wearing robes of white or gold, others with string skirts of sashes, their chests bare. It made Berwald blush as he rested his chin on his hands, leaning on a pitchforks heel.

Berwald had only seen the maidens dance; he had never actually been _a part_ of it. When he was a lad, he and the other kids—led by Mathias—would all sneak out after their bedtimes when the sun was still blazing across the land to witness the on-goings of the festival. The celebration always started with the drums pounding in the entrance to the dirt circle where the bonfire sat, fuming and licking upward towards the sky with flames. It was humbling and wonderful at the same time and it made all the child's eyes wide with wonderment.

Then when the harp player and piper began to play along with the drums the women and sometimes men would rush outward and dance stealthily and seductively, doing their best to catch the eye of a handsome warrior. Tonight, Berwald would be Tino's warrior. He would make sure of it!

Smiling sternly to himself he nodded at his commitment. He would be Tino's summer husband, there was no questioning it!

"Hey, Berwald! Whatcha' doing? Day dreaming of Tino naked?" an obnoxious voice rang in Berwald's ears. The stoic giant immediately stiffened up and grunted.

"Hnnn…No." He muttered with embarrassment, turning to the wild haired Dane who was smiling cheekily up at the Swede.

"Uh-huh, sure. Well, just thought I'd tell you—being the super awesome nice guy that I am—that there's a stray calf wandering the stream in the back meadow. I already have to help the men set up the May Pole for bonfires tonight, so I thought I'd tell you so you could take care of it.* Plus, if you save the cute lil' calf, I'm sure Tino would think nobly of you." Mathias winked, slapping Berwald on the back.

Berwald paused before adjusting his crudely made glasses. "Ya' r'ally th'nk so?" Berwald asked the tall man, setting the pitch fork against the wooden railings of the corral.

Mathias nodded wildly. "Yeah! Sure, why the hell not! But you'd better hurry before the _calf_ gets away!" Mathias grinned wildly, pushing Berwald out of the paddock. Berwald turned his head behind him.

"Th'nks fer' tellin' meh M'thi's...'s real n'ce of ya." Berwald murmured, nodding towards the Dane.

"No problem ya' dumb Swede! No go and get that Finn—I mean calf!" Mathias laughed after Berwald who was now loping down the path that led towards the river. Mathias smiled to himself, leaning against a wooden post.

"Dumb Swede's gonna' get a surprise he's never gonna' forget…" he cackled to himself before turning back to the corral and getting back to work.

…

Authors Note:

Denmark you Ass! Haha oh man this chapter was fun to make too! If you have any questions just ask me, I am your humble servant-Troll-Dolphin-Goat. :3

….

-"He knew that he would have to keep himself a maiden to actually participate in the maidens dance, but maybe a bit of fooling around before the bonfires couldn't hurt?*"-In Olden terminology, "Maiden" meant virgin, so what Tino is saying is he has to be a virgin to participate. Sad I know, I was going to make them have sex right then and there XD

- "Oh how he wished Thor's hammer would strike him across the forehead.*" –Thor was a popular God who carried a giant hammer and caused thunder through the land. He was very popular with protecting peasants.

-"Lähtö!" Tino shouted with all his might.*"—Means "Out" in Finnish.

-"Though the consummation at the Bonfire was not a real wedding, Berwald wondered if Tino would really agree to be not just his summer bride—but his bride for the many seasons to come.*"- I added this especially for one of my readers! Sadly, in Viking times especially Norway, these were 'mock weddings' which meant the couple was only joined for one night in the act of sex. Annnnnnd then sometimes they would be married, sometimes not.

-"Tino! Har mannen din kommer på besøk?" His aunt spoke with joy.*-"Has your husband come to visit?" In Norwegian.

-"Nei!" Tino responded back with hysterical speed.*-"No" in Norwegian. Because Tino's so cool he knows Norwegian!

- "Oh dear Odin why him?*"-Odin was the main God in Norse mythology.

-"Täti!" Tino hissed, glaring at his aunt with all his might.* "aunt" in Finnish.

-"His aunt shrieked for joy, wiping her tears on the edge of her _hangerock.*"-_ Viking apron worn by women.

- "Slinking out from the painful blades of the saw-grass, Mathias breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the soft roaring of the big stream that fed the great lake Torne."—Lake near the Swedish Finnish border.

- "He would make Loki the Trickster proud with this prank, he was sure of it!*"—Loki was the Norse God of mischief.

-"It was important for each of the cows and bulls to be blessed tonight under the sun while the Bonfire still spewed ash.*"-Cattle were taken and had ash rubbed on them, or were ran through the bonfires smoke to ensure good health.

- "the dirt clearing near the tall Troll's boulders, and then he would have to wash and dress himself in warriors garb for the Great Warriors Dance.*"- It was said that boulders were Trolls who froze in sunlight. Also I completely made up the warriors dance. It just gave me an excuse to have men shirtless!

-"I already have to help the men set up the May Pole for bonfires tonight, so I thought I'd tell you so you could take care of it.*"-More common in Sweden, it was a giant pole adorned with flowers and ribbon to represent a phallus, and once erected on the earth it was supposed to impregnate the earth to make it fertile.


	7. Follow the Puppy!

I'm not dead, my computer just broke, sorry guys... REVIEW OR THE DUDESONS WILL EAT ME! (check out my other stories too! They're Prussia-Awesome-tastic)

...

Berwald rubbed his callused hands against his shoulder blades. Tino was right; the bruise on his shoulder was starting to ache underneath the heavy linen of the bandages. Berwald frowned suddenly. He had wanted to be in the fittest stamina possible to impress the little Finn. There was no way Tino would pick Berwald at the fires if Berwald appeared weak. He had to look and act like a warrior. If he even so much as took a wrong step, it would ruin his chances.* Tonight was like the courtship of delicate birds alongside hungry wolves. It was Berwalds duty to claim his lovely violet eyed prey before the other viscous hunters did.

He sighed and trudged along the dusty path that led towards the clean waters of the river. He kept his eyes open for any sign of movement along the trees or bushes, the sun glaring against his eyes. His main goal was to find the stray calf, although impressing Tino with his caring of the baby animal was also another goal.

Berwald sighed and nursed his hands lightly over his bruised shoulder. The inklings of the greenish blotch had spots of plum purple peeking from under the bandages. Berwald frowned sharply. He was going to feel sore tonight, there was no way he would be able to please his wife now...

He had planned it out so perfectly. After the majority of the dancing was over, and Tino had accepted his proposal of being his summer bride (hopefully, Berwald thought with a stray feeling of worry), he would steal Tino into the night and tuck him into the warm confines of the dense forest, or even his long house if they were so eager to.* All Berwald truly wanted was to show Tino how much he really cared and loved the Finn. Tonight, Berwald would show Tino just how hungry and desperate his need for the lithe and slender man had become.

Berwald blushed. Still feeling his aching shoulder, he paused when he heard the rustling of a bush. He looked up, his eyes set in a frightful glare. He stared at the near by bush, its emerald green leaves shaking, as if Berwald's stare had scared it shitless. Berwald, hoping it was the missing calf, stepped heavily over to the bush, his feet dragging over the dusty earth. He was almost a few feet from the hedge when a blur of white dashed out from the confines of the leaves to land like a torpedo against Berwald's stomach.

The big man let out a winded "oof" before being pushed to the ground, groaning at his bruised shoulder. He shook the dizziness from his head to see the cute little white puppy that had been following him lately, perched on his stomach. Berwald sighed and patted the pup atop her head, her obsidian eyes sparkling with puppy-like joy. She yipped playfully before gnawing at strings of Berwald's blue tunic, Berwald embarrassed to find them still undone from Tino's persistence. He blushed brightly. Tino was certainly... Very advanced... in the arts of physical love, something that Berwald had thought of but lacked completely. He began to wonder at how to actually go about wooing the Finn. Plus, they would both be naked, right? Berwald shuddered slightly. Naked...Naked was good...

The puppy, confused as to why this giant of a man was turning the color of a bright red apple, nudged her wet nose against Berwalds cheek. Berwald, his mind quickly dispelling the rapidly forming fantasies of a buck naked Tino wiggling his ass to a fro, shook his head and chuckled softly as he felt the puppies wet nose and tongue glide against his heated face. He patted the pup on the head once before sliding his legs from underneath himself and sitting on the balls of his feet. He picked up the pup in his hands and held her up. She wagged her tail furiously before quipping up a joyous bark once more. Berwald chuckled once more before he continued walking down the soft and stone littered path, puppy in hand and a smile on his lips.

...

Tino ducked his head once more in the cool water before shaking his head back and forth, dispelling the drops of icy water from his mopped locks. He giggled and waded in the water, kicking his feet up and making the waters currants rise and fall against the saw grass flanked banks. He smiled to himself. He was feeling good and feisty, strung up and willful. The perfect combination for dancing tonight. He flopped on his back once more before gliding through the water to Feliks, who was combing out his hair and tying it up atop his head.

Tino snuck up behind him and, quietly and stealth-fully raised his hands over the water that circled and pooled against Feliks stark body. Tino grinned madly before slapping his hands hard against the water and uprooting the liquid to fling it at Feliks face. The Polish man squeaked and turned around, his face beaded with the water, hair dripping wet. He growled and smirked at the same time, pushing Tino downward and into the waters currants. The Finn surfaced upward before laughing wildly, his hair flattened against his face.

"I like, totally though you were a Wodjanoj! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that Tino, like, you'll totally make them piss themselves!"* Feliks laughed, nudging the Finn back into the water with his elbow. Tino laughed breathlessly before joining Feliks and Nikolas against the warm sand, there bodies soaking up the summer sun.

Feliks rolled over on his side, body coated with sand. he scratched his legs irritatingly. Nikolas just stared blankly at the water, his skin drying slowly under the blare of the sun.

"So...Tino..." He muttered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Tino swallowed hard. He did not like where this was going. He rolled over to support his body with his elbows, his junk to the breeze, just like a true man should sit.

"Are you ready to, like, impress a certain Swede tonight?" Feliks giggled, enjoying the sight of Tino's face lighting up like a winter torch. The poor Finn stammered in his speech before he could answer the shoulder length blonde.

"Well... I hope he will choose me, I mean, I'm not the best dancer...Or the prettiest, or the sexiest, or the..." Tino had never been this self conscious in his entire life, and he was beginning to hate the worrisome feeling that wormed its way into his gut. Berwald did say he wished Tino to be his bride... Hopefully He meant it.

"Like Tino! Calm down! You'll do fine! I've like, seen the way that tall bear of a man looks at you-hes like a hungry animal waiting to tear your clothes off!" Feliks smirked, smacking his friend on the shoulder. Tino winced, his lips upturned into a small smile.

"The whole village already knows hes head over heels for you. You've got him under your spell..." Nikolas muttered, a playful smile coating his usually mundane set lips.

Tino had been noticing the way Berwald was looking at him, his eyes solid and dark with what the younger boy hoped was love and attraction. They had kissed so many times, and it was well known to both men that they shared a mutual love for each other. Tino had nothing to worry about right? So what if he didn't have any boobs, or girlish hips? His ass was tight and pert enough to catch the Swede's eye, right? Right! Tino smiled triumphantly. He was going to win that bearish mans heart tonight, as well as another part of his body that Tino so greedily craved.

"Plus, it looks like you already had a handful of some Swedish meatballs this afternoon... Maybe even a mouthful~~!" Feliks giggled.

Tino's eye twitched a few times before the Finn pounced on top of the Polish man, threatening to rip off his manhood and throw it into the bonfires!

"As much as I love naked men wrestling on a hot afternoon..."

The two boys halted in their playful fighting, their eyes blinking in the hot sun to see Elizabeta, her wavy peach stone hair tussled by the wind. In her arms she held a heap of clothes, the majority of the clothing was very bright and silky looking-and feminine. Very feminine.

"No more dresses." Nikolas growled out, not even bothering to hide his nakedness. Each boy had know Elizabeta for such a long time, they no longer cared about her care free and often stalker-ish ways. She was still their friend, no matter how crazy, high strung, and stubborn.

She handed each boy a woolen blanket to cover and dry themselves as she rummaged through the bundle of clothes, clinking noises rumbled from inside the linen. Clinking was never a good sign.

"Fine. You don't want dresses? Then you can just meet your husbands naked. In fact, that sounds like a very fun idea. I'm sure Mathias would agree~~!" Elizabeta stuck her tongue out to Nikolas, whose eyes widened in horror. With his face flushed and his mouth set into a deep scowl, he grabbed one of the dresses from her hands and held it up to view, his other hand holding the blanket around his waist.

It was a lovely dress, fitted with stitching of flax the color of bright red apples baking on a mantle.* The draping of the dress was a rich and deep navy blue that matched Nikolas's eyes perfectly. The weight of the cord that would serve as the belt was light and lacy, like the stems of thin clovers, and the dress was as fluttery as a butterflies wings. But the thing that puzzled the boys most was that there was no bodice-no top-to the dress at all. Only a bottom.

"Elizabeta..." Nikolas rumbled, adgitation hitting his throat like a vibrant chord. Elizabeta handed Feliks and Tino thier dresses, each one drastically different from Nikolas's, but still missing the top of the dress.

"Hmmmm?" She looked to Nikolas and smiled brightly.

"Where is the rest of the dress?" Nikolas barked out. He was losing his temper.

"What do you mean? Its all there." She answered, placing a bit of corded jewelry in each boys palms.

"Its only like, a skirt!" Felik's commented, though his voice wasn't as annoyed as Nikolas, in fact, the blonde Polish man looked quite pleased. He held his dress skirts to his waist, and spun around. Feliks dress had the magnificent gleam of stitched flowers, all in reds and oranges, along with white glittering sashes that were tied together by even more vibrant yellows and blues.* Feliks smiled and clutched the skirt to his chest.

Tino looked down at his own dress. The skirts were of thin and smooth material, made with excellent care, and the bold colors made his eyes blink a few times.* The short wrappings were of a lighter blue than Nikolas's skirt but still as pretty, a thick sash of red, decorated with little dabbles of white stitches the color of snow daintily covered the sash. The ends of the skirt were outlined with a quilted border of the same flush red, only with small gold tassels. Tino's eyes grew wide. It was a beautiful piece of art.

"Since you boys are male I thought that having just the skirts on would be interesting. Also I love messing with your lives." Elizabeta gave her award winning Cheshire cat grin. Nikolas frowned, Feliks smiled, and Tino just stood there dumbfounded.

Elizabeta clapped her hands together and smiled. She plucked the small leather chord of a necklace from Tino's hand and swiftly double knotted it behind the Finn. Standing back she let Tino flit his fingers against the cool metal of the necklace symbol, a small bear.* He smiled at her and thanked her with a quick bow. She nodded before shooing the boys into the bushes and telling them to dress quickly. Each boy did as he was told, selecting a spot in the shady oaks and aspens to change into their clothing.

Tino stumbled into the blazing forest air. The sun would stay up all night as the village sang its praises to the Gods. The air was already thick, tangible. He could feel the suns rays leak in from the tree tops to wrap against his skin in a warm embrace. Tino smiled. The time for the feast was drawing near, and Tino could feel his blood rushing through his veins. He was excited. Excited to see Berwald tonight. The Swede's chest bare, eyes sharp and thoughtful, arms taunt, his Berwald.

Tino felt a shiver run through his body. Yes, Berwald was his, and he was Berwalds. Every fiber of the Finn screamed to have Berwalds naked flesh pressed tightly against his. He craved the feeling of Berwald hot and calloused hands atop the Finn's body. He needed it. His heart beat wildly between his rib cage, his pulse becoming so apparent that Tino could feel it in his throat. He slid down to the grassy floor and dumped the skirt to the earth. Tino bit his lip.

He felt a twinging heat pool down into his stomach, as if the slightest thought about Berwald would make his young mind snap and dive into pleasure. He craved Berwald. Needed him. Waiting was not an option.

Tino sighed, smoothing his hands over his dampened hair, the blanket barely clinging onto his thin hips. He swallowed hard and sank deeper into the blanket. Maybe...maybe... He looked around himself. He was a good distance away from Elizabeta and the rest of the boys. Perhaps, if he was quiet...he could re-leave himself, if only for a little while. Tino bit his lip once more. Curse his boyish stamina!

Tino flitted his hands lightly, almost guiltily to the blanket that clung to his waist like the last petal of a daisy. Yet, his need overpowering him, he willed his hands to cast off the blanket, leaving himself bare, exposed, and needful for release.

His lusty fantasies had already taken a toll on his little friend, as a drop of pearly liquid quivered like dew on the top of his manhood. Tino licked his lips seductively.

Lazily, he trailed his fingers over the base of his hardening problem, imagining Berwalds slender and long fingers dancing over his throbbing arousal. Tino twisted his wrist in an effort to create more friction, his eyes shut tight, mouth already whispering little moans of encouragement to himself. It wasn't his fault for being like this. It was Berwalds.

Tino could barely even think straight as his fingers began to squeeze ruthlessly along his shaft, his poor throat crying out in the buzzing heat of the day. He used his left hand to support his body as he leaned against a tree trunk, hips propped up, ass seated on the water dampened blanket. He rolled his hips in time with his hands, trying his best to create more of the delicious friction that wrapped around his body with every tug of his fingers.

He tried his best to stay quiet, but it was so tempting to just moan his little head off. His mouth was already becoming dry and his face was so heated he feared any longer and his head would burst. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and squeezed along the length harder, pumping his hands up and down, matching his maddening pants and whines. If only Berwald was here... He thought hungrily.

...

Berwald had just made his way to the brook that jutted out from the road. Placing the wriggling puppy down to the floor, Berwald bent down to the edge of the river, hands gliding over the crystal clear water. He frowned and glanced around the beaches edge. There were prints, human foot prints to be exact, but colved feet which meant no calf. Berwald furrowed his brow. He straightened up his back and stood up, wiping his wet hands on his trouser pants.

As far as he could tell, there had been no calf down by the creek. There wasn't any sign of tracks of grazing. Berwald paused. Come to think of it, Berwald remembered all the calf's being brought into the willow patch just this afternoon. He had counted and all eight of the calves had been accounted for... Berwald glared. Damned that lying Dane!

He felt stupid for believing such a lie from that blonde idiot. Berwald growled low in his throat. By now it was only a half an hour until the feast. He had wasted enough time, he still had to get dressed and help light the flames of the bonfire. He would kill Mathias later...

Looking back outward from where he came, he sighed and began to walk back up the path, that is, until he heard a loud yip. as hopping up on her hind legs and whining irritably. Berwald arched up an eyebrow before striding up to the little dog, her tail swishing madly in a blur, eyes bright.

Berwald bent down to the puppies eye lever and grunted. "Wh'ts wr'ng?" He asked her, hands resting on his knees.

The little white dog that had so fondly attached herself to Berwald, barked loudly, hopping to a fro, trotting over a rotten log that had fallen in the creek long ago. She bounded off the log with a quick jump and shook her fur. Berwald sighed.

"I don't h've t'me for th's..." Berwald muttered, looking outward to the little dog who was persistently barking. Berwald shook his head and grunted. His kindness getting the better of him, he hopped onto the log to join the dog.

Apparently the log did not like Berwald, because as soon as he was half way across the fallen log, the splintered shards keeping the wood together snapped and plunged into the water, taking Berwald down with it.

Berwald rose from the water soaked and irritable, his lungs chocking. He growled in frustration and slapped his hands against the water. The little puppy on the shore just barked mockingly. Berwald groaned in his head. After Tino had specifically told him to keep his bandages dry...Berwald scrunched up his face with annoyance.

After making his way back up onto land, he shook his legs and his head, sending drops of water everywhere. The little puppy whined and backed up, not happy about getting her pretty white fur wet. Then, once Berwald was done shaking as much water as he could from his clothes he felt something gnawing at his boots. He looked down and saw the puppy, her small teeth tearing a bit of leather from his shoe. He rolled his eyes before bending down to pick up the little dog but the pup was too fast, as she skidded away from him just in time. Berwald smiled sharply. So the puppy wanted to play?

Berwald lunged forward with speed, trying to snatch up the yipping and frolicking dog. But he was no match for the little ball of fluff, and soon she had led him deep into the forest. Berwald, out of breath, knelt his arms against a tree. The little puppy shaking her tail and whining quietly, her face shoved into a bush.

Berwald blinked, wondering why the little dog had suddenly given up chase. He bent down to her eye level he scooted her aside to peer into the bush that the pup had found so interesting. Focusing his eyes, he let out a small gasp. No...It couldn't be...Could it?

...

Tino tried his best to muffle his cries, but it proved a challenge. Already he could feel the heat burning in his groin about to explode. But he didn't want to come, not yet... He wanted to keep imagining, keep believing that it was Berwald's wide hands that were bringing him so much pleasure, that it was Berwald's thumb that brushed against the tip of his manhood, and that it was Berwald's fingers that Tino could feel migrating up his chest and to his nipples.

Tino gave out a short cry as his thumb and index finger tugged at his now pert nipples. He bit his lip as he rolled the pink nub tightly, wishing that it was Berwald who was touching him.

Berwald was the reason Tino had this fire burning in his groin, Berwald was the reason that Tino was panting wildly in the hushed and thick air of the forest, Berwald was the reason Tino was whimpering the Swede's name over and over again like a mantra on his lips, and Berwald was the reason for making the Finn want nothing more than to be filled to the hilt with a big, long, thick, hot, Swedish coc-

"...T'no?"

Tino froze, his hands clenched around his manhood, his spine bowed to the earth, hair matted and his naked body sticky with sweat. His face heated up like a thousand matches had been lit under his chin. No...No...Oh no...nonononononono...

He twisted his head behind him, fingers still guiltily clutching his hardness. His eyes widened with embarrassment.

A red faced Berwald was kneeling into the confines of a bush, his hands shaking and his lips parted.

"Are yoo okay?" Berwald muttered, his eyes fixed on the Finn's naked body.

Tino's voice choked in his throat. He felt his fingers unconsciously give a harsh squeeze to his straining member. He winced with pleasure.

"Never been better... And yourself?" Tino gasped, his face flushed against the paleness of his body.

Berwald took another long lusty look at Tino's body.

"N'ver been b'tter."

...

OH SNAP TINO YOU NAUGHTY BOY!

Authors Notes:

"If he even so much as took a wrong step, it would ruin his chances."*- **Dancing has always been a big part of human expression and especially the expression of power and even lust. I tihnk it would be hilarious to see a big white dude like Berwald try to 'bust a move'!**

"...he would steal Tino into the night and tuck him into the warm confines of the dense forest, or even his long house if they were so eager to.*"- **I am following the old Beltane traditions on this one guys! So, during certain festivals that included sex, couples would actually fornicate underneath the sky.**

"I like, totally though you were a Wodjanoj! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that Tino, like, you'll totally make them piss themselves!"* - **A Wodjanoj was a male water spirit that are master shape-shifters in Polish lore.**

"It was a lovely dress, fitted with stitching of flax the color of bright red apples baking on a mantle."- **I gave Norway a traditional Norwegian festival dress called a "Bunad".**

"Feliks dress had the magnificent gleam of stitched flowers, all in reds and oranges, along with white glittering sashes that were tied together by even more vibrant yellows and blues.* "- **I gave Feliks a traditional Polish dress called a "Krakow".**

"The skirts were of thin and smooth material, made with excellent care, and the bold colors made his eyes blink a few times.*"- **I gave Tino a traditional Sami (or Laplander) dress.**

"Standing back she let Tino flit his fingers against the cool metal of the necklace symbol, a small bear.*" - **In Finland they have certain spirit animals. Oddly enough, in Finland you shouldn't say the word 'bear' because there is a superstition that once you do, one will find you and eat you! I read somewhere that Tino's spirit animal was a bear 3**


	8. Romp in the Forest

I do not own Hetalia, if did, Sweden would be shirtless all the time! I hope you enjoy this next chapter guys! Things get a little...Frisky! REVIEW OR I WILL BE EATEN BY HANA-TAMAGOOOOOOO AHHHH!

(This chapter is dedicated to minn', whose reviews and awesome stories helped me to keep my motivation for this fic.")

Also, I am looking for a Swedish speaker who can help me translate my text from English to Swedish for this story and my other ones for accurate Swedish dialogue for Berwald. Thank you!

...

Berwald let his eyes wander again over the lithe and yet supple body of the petite Finn. He swallowed deep in his throat and didn't even bother to close his drooling mouth nor cover up his fire red cheeks with his bearish hands. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think this moment would ever happen. Tino was naked before his glaring eyes. Naked...Naked...NakedNakedNaked. Berwald's stern stare softened to a smirk.

Tino's eyes widened when he saw the inklings of a smirk on the crouched mans lips. He blinked a few times before finally smirking himself. It looked like Tino could have some fun with this situation.

Tino fluttered his eyelashes and, slinking like an animal of prey, slowly crawled over to Berwald on all fours. Berwald, eyes widening and smirk snapping away within a second, blinked a few times before sliding backwards, back pressed into the emerald green hedge behind him.

Tino pouted playfully. "Berwald... What's wrong? It's just little ol' me..." Tino purred, his palms flat to the earth, ass exceptionally high in the air, till the streaming sunlight glided along his now warm and dry skin. Tino licked his pink tongue over his now chapped lips, earning a hushed grunt from the Swede.

"Hnnn..." Berwald pressed further into the bush, earning a dull thwap to his back by a low cut bough. Berwald winced and shut his eyes tight. The bush limb had barely missed his bruised shoulder. Tino, forgetting his sexual advances, quickly went into worried mode.

"Oh! Are you okay?" Tino squeaked, hurrying over to Berwald who was rubbing his back feverishly. He scooted over to the tree Tino had been leaning against not but a few minutes ago. When the little Finn was... doing a certain activity.

"Mhhh... I'm 'k..." He muttered, blushing when he realized that Tino was still naked and hovering over him-hovering over him in a very provocative position. The Finn's legs had been saddled on either side of Berwald's hips, the Finn's hands resting on the Swede's muscular shoulders, face still posed in a worried pout. The Finn's lithe fingers gently grazed the bruised shoulder, his eyes downcast.

"Ah...Ber...Berwald...?" Tino stuttered, his eyes becoming a glazed violet, like a flower petal that had been left in the summer sun for too long. Tino did his best to avoid the Swedes now heated gaze. How was it that just a few seconds ago, this hadn't been awkward? Tino sighed in frustration. Feeling like the mood had suddenly been sucked out of his groin, he blushed.

"I'd...I'd better get some clothes on... I'm sorry you had to see me like this." Tino muttered before he gingerly dismounted the Swede's midsection and stumbled around the small clearing to retrieve the littered clothing that was amassed everywhere in the dry grass.

Berwald sat there in silent shock. What? Now Tino was about to put his clothes back on? Simply because Berwald got injured...? Berwald furrowed his brow. Well, if that was the way things were going to be...

Tino had just picked up the fluttering skirt and was packing it up with his other change of clothing when he saw a shadow loom over him. Tino quickly turned his head behind him and squeaked with fright. Berwald's sea green eyes bore into him, like a lion trying to scare its prey shitless before it devoured it. Tino swallowed hard.

Without a moments hesitation, strong and warm arms buried themselves around the Finn's bare stomach, heaving Tino up and over onto Berwalds lap. Tino squealed like a little girl before regaining some of his composure back, his face as heated and plump as a bright spring strawberry.

"Berwald...What?" Tino began but was stopped. The Swedes eyes glided over Tino's small and girlish frame. Whatever fat the little Finn had stored up over the winter had melted away along with the snow on the valley's mountain tops, leaving Tino smooth, pale, and with velvety sinew muscles that helped him to at least appear male. He still had a bit of a belly, but it was cute and made Berwald wanted to pinch it and glide his hands across the smooth skin. Berwald smiled down at the little Finn that was wriggling in his arms.

"No cl'thes..."Berwald mumbled simply against the skin of Tino's collar bone. Tino jolted his hips downward, a small gasp slipping out of his lips like water down a stream. Berwald felt that jolt, felt Tino's hip bone grind into side very sharply. But... It didn't hurt. Dare he say, it felt wonderful. Berwald looked back to the Finn who had his eyes shut, his mouth opened into a silent 'o'. Berwald smirked.

Tino shut his eyes tight, feeling two calloused and wide palms wrapped lightly over his hip bones. Tino blushed as he felt Berwald's fingers expand and devour every nook and cranny of the Finn's smooth skin. It felt so good, and Tino wanted nothing more than to keep the feel of the Swede's roaming hands on his body.

"Berwald... Did you want to help me with something?" Tino breathed out, his breath escaping his lungs with the intensity of a newly lit flame, consuming and withering.

Berwald paused in nipping Tino's shoulder blade, his hands gently, cautiously kneading Tino's bare hip bones. He didn't know what he was doing, let alone if what he was doing felt good for the Finn. Berwald was moving his hands and lips completely on instinct. But if Tino wanted his help to fix a certain something, Berwald was more than happy to help. His tightening pants be damned.

"Wh't ya' need?" Berwald asked, his voice more huskier than he'd like it to be. He nuzzled his nose into Tino's bare shoulder, simply inhaling the sweet scent of the Finn. Tino smelled like heat, summer heat. The drying of flowers against an open window sill, the slowly baked honey bread eaten after meals for a solstice treat, or the ripest of blackberries, the ones that the birds hadn't yet gotten to. Thats what Tino smelled like. But it was what he tasted like, that Berwald was most interested in.

Tino struggled for words, his mouth already becoming as dry as a mouthful of sand. He shifted slightly, feeling the coarse wool of Berwald's tunic rub uncomfortably against his naked legs. Tino bit his lip. He should feel bashful, should feel a lack on confidence, because he was the one naked, raw, and who had not but a few minutes ago been wanking his little head off like no tomorrow.

But... Tino didn't have to be the only one naked...right? Tino grinned devilishly. Right.

"Berwald... I need you to take your tunic off..." Tino breathed into the scalding summer air. They only had a little bit of time left before Elizabeta and the rest of the boys would be looking for them. Tino had to get his 'problem' under control, and fast.

Berwald looked at the Finn seated on his lap quizically. Why would Tino need Berwald to be shirtless? Maybe the Finn wanted to see Berwald's wounds and how they were healing? Berwald nodded. That must be it.

So, shuffling his weight up, Berwald hooked his thumbs into each side of the wool tunic and heaved it up and over his head, throwing it near Tino's own pile of clothing. So now he was shirtless. What next?

Tino stared in shock at the manly sight displayed before him. Tino had seen Berwald's naked chest, had seen it many times before since they first had their little chat in the meadow, but had never had the time, never had the nerve, to run his hands up and down it. Berwald was like a God among men, a Stallion among colts, a lion among house cats. He was everything Tino could have ever wanted in a man, and right then and there he wanted to prove it to the Swede.

Berwald didn't know how, but in a matter of seconds he was laying flat on the dirt floor and Tino's tiny little hands were roaming non-stop along his chest. Berwald blinked a few times before settling a confused gaze on the little Finn who was looking as his chest like Berwald was some kind of feast all sprawled out. Berwald blushed.

"T'no..." Berwald spoke softly.

Tino, blinking his eyes a few times at the mention of his name, looked to Berwald. He cleared his throat before blushing. His hands had stopped their mad dash and were now poised on Berwalds stomach. Tino's fingers flexed, begging to explore, to conquer...To be conquered.

"Wh't n'xt..." Berwald asked the little Fin. Tino softly blushed, remembering that he had wanted something from Berwald...Something...Very special.

"I need you naked." Tino muttered quietly. Berwald blinked a few times. Naked? Why him?

Tino felt his cheeks flare at Berwald's confused and slightly aroused face. Tino shut his eyes tight before he clutched the small leather cord that held the Swede's pants up.

"Pl...please Berwald. Just... Please, for me...?" Tino whimpered. He didn't know how much time they had. Elizabeta and the rest of the boys could walk in on them at any moment, granted that made the Finn even more excited, the thrill of being caught too great! But still... Feliks would never let him live it down, oh no, that damned Polish man would scream it to the heavens.

Berwald starred at Tino. Really stared. His wife's cheeks already had a healthy reddish glow about them, his lips pouting, eyes quivering, begging almost. Berwald blinked. If Tino wanted him naked, by the Gods he was going to fulfill the Finn's wish.

"Hnnnnn..." Berwlad muttered slightly before nudging his hands to rest on the lose knot on his breeches. Tino, his face lighting up and his breath quickening, quickly scooted from Berwald's legs to crouch down, trying his best to cover his own erection. Just because he was naked and about to see a pant less Swede, did not mean he wasn't bashful.

Clumsily, awkwardly, Berwald's pawish hands un-knotted the small woolen cord that held his trousers up. Along with un-looping the leather cow hide belt and throwing it to the side, Berwald began to slowly shimmy his way out of his trousers, blushing violently as he did so. He thrust his hips upward and was about to pull them down all the way.* His bashfulness be damned, this was for his wife!

Tino sat on the heel of his feet, his ankles twitching back and forth. Oh he was excited, to say otherwise would be the biggest lie in history! He wanted this, could taste this, could feel this... He was about to see Berwald completely naked. Tino grinned devilishly. Nothing could be better!

Except that. Nothing could be better than that.

That.

That thing.

What was that? It was huge! It looked like it should have been grown on a bull or a stallion for Gods sake! Not on a man! What did Swedish men eat anyway? Tino's eyes widened with realization, his face heating up like a monstrous flame.

Oh my Odin that's his dic-!

Berwald coughed into the thick and solid air.

After taking off his trousers he had peeked up to look at Tino's face. The look of astonishment and bewilderment on the little Finn's face was something the Swede did not expect. Was Tino terrified? Angry? Or even worse... disgusted with him? Berwald hung his head low in shame. He quickly shuffled around with his hands till he collected back his trousers. Holding them in place over his manhood he made a move to stand up.

But someone held him back.

Tiny, quivering hands glided over the Swede's chest in a sneak attack. Berwald was gently pushed down as Tino's soft and delicate weight relaxed itself on Berwald's legs. Berwalds eyes widened as he spied Tino's face behind his frighteningly crystalline stare. Berwald let out a small grunt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Tino asked softly. The small Finn's hands lightly padded across Berwald's stomach, over his chest, collar bone and back again in small spiraling patters. Berwald ground his teeth together to keep from grunting in pleasure.

"Th'ught ya' were d'sg'sted..." Berwald muttered, trying to keep his stern eyes on Tino's face and not on the Finns supple body. It was a challenge in itself.

"I'm not disgusted! If anything...I'm excited..." Tino purred low into Berwald's ear. The Swede stiffened, his ears turning a rusty red that Tino found absolutely adorable.

"B't...It's too... too..." Berwald murmured breathlessly. Tino had begun to inch him self further on Berwald, now sitting flush on his hips.

"Big?" Tino supplied helpfully. He rocked his hips further against Berwald's strong and solid body. Tino growled happily, like a little fox that had found something that delighted it greatly. Tino smiled to himself. Oh yes, this delighted him greatly.

Berwald nodded softly, shame filling his eyes once more, but Tino softly kissed his lips with a purpose, with a want. Tino did not want Berwald to feel self conscious, to feel saddened or guilty. Berwald was Perfect and handsome and sexy, and it was time the Swede recognized it.

"You are my Summer Husband Berwald... I couldn't ask for anything better." Tino looked into those stern and stormy eyes and watched with a smile as the Swede's eyes grew soft, like when the sun embraces the lush greens of the forests. It made Tino's heart melt and pulse. Berwald was his summer husband, no one could take that away from him, not even the Gods themselves.

Berwald felt his heart near to burst. He had never once felt so happy in his entire life. Everything that happened in his life, everything that was surgery sweet, and warm and happy-it was all because of Tino. He smiled, a true genuine smile that made his eyes gleam and gave him courage in his heart. He would take Tino tonight, he would make love to the Finn like no tomorrow, and Damned be to Hel* anyone that tried to stop him.

After a few seconds Tino could feel something hard and velvety smooth dig dully into his hips. He swallowed thickly and, in order to distract himself, began to give feather like kisses up and down Berwald's face. One, two, three, four kisses and still his heart could not be calmed. He sighed blissfully and decided to heat things up a bit.

Berwald felt his lungs burn with a suspicious delight. Somewhere between the wonderful words that Tino had just spoken and the loving little kisses that the Finn had swept on his cheeks, Bewald had felt his body lose control.

First his face heated with a healthy blush that made his whole body hum with warmth. Then, it was his arms that slowly bucked against Tino's smooth flesh, he began to pinch and squeeze, romp and twist his fingers gently against that plump flesh that he craved so badly. Fueled by the even friskier movements of the Finn, Berwald spurred on, eager to give Tino a romp in the hay that he'd never forget. Berwald might be naive, but he knew a few things about physical love that he was more than eager to display for Tino.

Tino sighed in the heated air as he felt curious and bearish hands roam lower and lower, till, with hesitation, they lightly cupped his ass. Tino smirked and pushed up against Berwald's chest, his hands lazily sprawled out on Berwald's heated and crisp flesh. Tino gave a noise of approval when Berwald's fingers lightly nudged against the skin, pinching it and folding it against his palms, as it he was flexing his own fingers against something fragile. Tino smirked. He was in no way fragile, and he wanted to make that completely known.

With a withdraw of breath Tino bucked his hips against Berwald's, grinding and rutting his flesh against the giants. Berwald grunted harshly. Somewhere behind them a bird called and a fish jumped in the cool river near by. But other than that it was complete silence. Tino was about to change all that.

"Berwald... Can...Can you..." Tino tried to voice his want, but his throat was burning, his lungs trying desperately to gulp down enough air. It was useless, his voice was dead to him, allowing only mewls and moans to surface from his vocal chords.

Berwald gave Tino a questioning look, his hands still pressed firmly against Tino's ass. So far he was having the time of his life. But Tino looked like he wanted something or needed something. Berwald was more than happy to help.

"Wh't ya' want?" Berwald hummed, his hands lightly trailing over Tino's ass, dancing against his jutting hip bones and massaging the smooth skin that felt like the softest of flower petals.

Tino bit his lip, not trusting his voice. He struggled to sit down again further on Berwald's lap until he was directly against Berwald's growing erection. Tino admitted the sheer size of the Swede was nerve wracking. He felt like if Berwald even tried to make love to him he'd break him in half... Perhaps he was being silly, or just a bit jealous, but Berwald truly was the best specimen among men.

Tino stealthily ground his hips against Berwalds, feeling the Swedes manhood graze against his own in a shock of sparks. Tino shut his eyes tight and groaned softly. Berwald froze, his brain short-cirque-ting.

Ah...Thats what Tino wanted.

Berwald cleared his throat huskily wrapping one of his arms against the small of Tino's back. Tino yipped like a startled animal before having his body rake over the Swede's. Tino shivered as he felt something hard, hot, and wet dig against his hip, leaving his breathless and tingly.

Berwald, finally getting enough courage in his heart, carefully brushed his long fingers against the smooth skin of Tino's weeping member. Tino cried out softly, his eyes shut, leaving him blind and aroused. Very aroused.

Berwald licked his chapped lips and starred back at the little Finn's problems. Tino's cock had a bead of white liquid dribbling down from the tip, the head flushed a painful red. Berwald grunted before wrapping his right hand securely around the shaft, feeling Tino buck and strain against the Swede. Tino's face blushed fiercely as the Swede swiftly moved his wide palm and lithe fingers against the smooth and hard flesh.

Tino felt the ever present coil in his stomach bite into him with as much force as to make the Finn growl with want. Berwald was teasing him, lightly dancing his fingers against the shaft, or subtly grazing his callous thumb over the head, lightly circling the small slit with his middle finger. It left Tino gasping.

But...Tino shouldn't be the only one that was getting all the attention. Oh no. Tino could feel the Swede's thick appendage pressing against his stomach, leaking slightly, flushed and rigid. Tino, even though he was a bit annoyed of the title of 'bride' decided to cater to his husbands needs.

Berwald groaned.

Apparently Tino was not as innocent as Berwald had once thought.

As soon as Berwald had swiped his thumb against the Finn's erection, it seemed like Tino had finally snapped and was left reeling and rocking in pleasure. Apparently Berwald was not the only one craving to be touched and fondled.

Berwald blushed and bit back a moan as he felt sneaky and tiny hands clutch his manhood and tug relentlessly on it. Berwald dug his blunt nails into Tino's hips, his other hand squeezing for dear life against the Finn's arousal. Berwald had no idea how this mad dash of pleasure had started, but all he could say was that he was enjoying it. A lot.

Tino knew how to arouse the Swede to no end, whether it was moaning wantonly, or bucking his hips in time with Berwalds thrust of his hands. Tino was amazing, Tino was beautiful, Tino was sexy, Tino was...Sucking on Berwalds cock.

"T'no!" Berwald stuttered, his voice feeling raw and overused. Berwald downcast his eyes to see that Tino was no longer perched on Berwald's legs, but was instead kneeling between Berwald's strong legs, his fingers still clutched desperately around Berwald's manhood, but his mouth was hovering against the tip of the Swede's cock, a light pinkish blush dusted against his cheeks. Tino smirked before lightly licking his lips seductively against the tip, a bit of the pearly liquid being lapped up by that pink and devilish tongue. Berwald growled.

"T'no...what're ya doin'?" Berwald mumbled in his usually guttered speech. He rested his head against the tree trunk behind him and grabbed for the roots of the three branch till his knuckles turned white.

Tino smirked once again before dancing his tongue deeper along the healthy and supple shaft.

"I'm making my husband feel good, hei?"* Tino smirked, his hands giving a sharp squeeze to Berwald's member. Berwald bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Skit..." Berwald cursed under his breath.*

Tino gave a healthy lick, almost caressing the tip of the cock before gliding his lips against it, playfully kissing it, giggles escaping his lips.

Berwald gnashed his teeth together. This was too cruel, too dirty, too...arousing. Berwald almost smacked himself.

He had no idea Tino was this...experienced, with forms of sexual play. In a way it made Berwald feel a little awkward and a little bit slow. But... Maybe if he turned things up a notch, he wouldn't be left behind in the dust. Berwald flashed a rare smile, a smile that showed the sharp glint of teeth.

Tino was happily sucking and bobbing his head back and forth, taking as much of the Swede as he could in his mouth without choking. He was impressed with himself. This was the first time he'd ever pleased a man, and well, from the look of the red faced groaning Swede, Tino was sure he was doing a more than dandy job.

It was until he felt something or someone glide their fingers against their hips and jut Tino upwards that he blinked rapidly. Berwalds' cock slid out from were it was nestled against Tino's throat with a fast plop!

Tino was even more confused when strong arms sat Tino against something warm and heated that he realized what had happened. Berwald had lifted Tino up and over him so that Tino was comfortably seated on the Swede's lap, fairly close to a certain part of the Swede.

A certain part that was still glistening wet from being in Tino's mouth. Tino smirked with satisfaction.

That was, until he saw the intent gaze in the Swede's eyes. Berwald's eyes were hungry and fierce, like a lion that had its tale pulled one too many times and was now intent on returning the favor. Tino made a small yelp as he did his best to avoid the lusty and heated gaze that was perched across Berwalds face. It wasn't just a hunger for physical contact that stabbed into the Swede's gaze. But a fierce and primal hunger for Tino. Tino swallowed harshly.

In one swift movement Berwald clutched Tino's hips and slammed them against his own none too gently. Tino winced with pleasure as he felt the strong arms clutch his waist, his erection rubbing fiercely against the Swedes own. The feel of Berwalds hot cock squeezed against his own was enough right then and there to make the Finn spiral into an orgasm.

"Oh...Berwald..." Tino sighed with a heated breath.

"Hnnnngg..." Berwald muttered through strained teeth as he scooted his hands in between his body and the Finn's. Tino's body jolted as he felt the Swede's strong and long fingers grip both their erection before thrusting his palms upward, hands clasped tightly onto both of their manhood's.

"Ah...Ahhh! Voi jumalat!" Tino cried out.* This felt good, no not good, amazing! Yes amazing!

Tino gave a violent buck, his hips rocking time with the Swede's as he did his best to create more tantalizingly wonderful friction between both thier throbbing and burning cocks.

Tino couldn't care less about how much of a wanton he must have looked like. All he wanted was Berwald to thrust into him with no end. But, he couldn't have that, at least not now. So this was the next best thing. So far, Tino wasn't minding this alternative option.

"Ah...Berwald! I...I can't take...it..." Tino cried out, his lungs burning, pleasing for more air, for rest. But Tino denied his writhing and crying body. He would not stop, he would not give in.

Berwald gritted his teeth, his wide hand jutting up and down, faster and fast, his other hand pinching and squeezing the life out of Tino's ass.

He wanted them to come together, to feel that wave of pleasure together, so with his mind determined, he crushed his lips to the Finn's and did something that he had wanted to do for a long time.

Tino's eyes widened with shock. Berwald had sunk his tongue deep inside Tino's mouth and explored almost violently, like a viking whose life purpose was to pillage and claim. At that moment Berwald would not listen to reason. He would not be gentle and he sure as hell wouldn't be cowardly. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

Tino moaned loudly into the kiss, his own tongue giving Berwald's the way of dominance. He knew he had awoken something inside the Swede, something that washed over them like hot water from a boiling kettle. It filled them up and refused to filter through, refused to leave their bodies, so muddled with pleasure and want.

But then it happened. Like a roar of a lion, Berwald tightened his grip around both their manhood's and tugged harshly, leaving Tino to break away from the kiss and cry out desperately.

It was a shot of white that glided against his vision, and in one second it left him slumped and worn against the sweaty and pale chest of Berwald. Tino's chest heaved and pleaded, doing its best to fill his lungs with much needed air.

Tino had felt it, had felt Berwald's cum shoot across his stomach, leaving him sticky and wet, but content none the less. They had done it, tightening their bond of each other, tightening their love of one another.

Love?

Tino hesitated. He looked over to Berwald's sweaty face. His crudely made glasses were left askew, his heart beating strongly and loudly, doing its best to calm his body down. His eyes were shut softly, not strained, and his smile. Oh that smile. it was one that Tino would forever keep in his smiled to himself as well and warpped his arms around the Swede, burying his head in the crook on his neck. He felt muscular arms wrap themselves against Tino's petite body.

Love?

Tino smiled once more.

Love.

...

Authors notes:

That's only a bit of the Smut! I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was interesting to write to say the least! I thought it was freaking hilarious when Tino got an eyeful of Berwald's well... you know!

REVIEW PLEASE! IT LETS ME KNOW THAT YOU GUYS LIKE MY STORIES AND THAT YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THEM! Plus reviews help keep the mean dolphins away, and those things are very persistent!

-"He thrust his hips upward and was about to pull them down all the way.*"-I'm pretty sure men during this time frame did not wear underwear. The only underwear that they did have would be a chemise or another set of trousers, and those were only worn during winter.

-Hel*-Once again 'Hel' is a place and a person. Hel is the equivalent to the Christian notion of Hell. Hel is ruled by a Goddess named Hel who is ugly and trollish looking, though she is not evil.

-"I'm making my husband feel good, hei?"* -"Hei" is the equivalent to "hey" in English.

-"Skit..." Berwald cursed under his breath.*-"Skit" means "shit" in Swedish

-"Ah...Ahhh! Voi jumalat!" Tino cried out.*-"Oh Gods!" In Finnish


	9. Her name is Hanatamago!

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! ( If I did Sweden would always be naked)! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this update! In a week or less I will be at a place with limited internet access, so it may be an entire month till I get to update my stories. But do not fret! I will be cranking out a chapter a day for one lucky story a day! So enjoy this chapter of "Flowers Pick"!**

**Thank you to **yotzie** and **MalinChan**, my two awesome Swedish/Finnish translators! Much love to you guys!**

...

Tino sighed contently into the boiling warm air that smelled faintly of sweat and naughty things. A few minutes had past since he and Berwald had...well...proved their love for one another physically, and already the Finn was starting to regain feeling in his lower body, especially a certain part of his body. Tino yawned loudly and willed his youthful eagerness to stay under control, but such a demand was hard to do, especially when his arms were wrapped around the neck of a hot and studly Swedish man.

Tino hummed and smirked into the solid and sweat dampened chest of Berwald, rolling on his stomach, his elbow propping him up, gritting into the soft earth. He smiled brightly down at the softly shut eyed Swede whose breath was still trying to keep up with his pounding heart. Tino smirked.

Berwald took a deep breath of the hot air that smelled like sweat and Tino, his nose filling to the brim with the tangy scent of their come. Berwald blushed brightly. He still couldn't believe that he had done that with the Finn.

That his cute and innocent little bride had...licked, touched, swallowed..and...and! Berwald groaned low in his throat, his head spinning, all the blood rushing to his fried brain in a hurry. He sighed with embarrassment and cracked one of his eyes open to great his new...What? Bride? Yes. Wife? Yes. Lover? Berwald paused.

Lover? He looked down to the little Finn who was yawning like a cute little puppy. Definitely, if he had anything to say about it.

Berwald sighed comfortably and ran his wide palms and long fingers into Tino's hair, feeling the doves wings softness of it, marveling at the color. Tino was so beautiful, like a brightened morning glory, spread out and delicate, nimble petals reaching skyward. Berwald sifted his fingers through the soft hair, making little swirls with the pads of his finger tips. Tino hummed appreciatively, enjoying the sensation of the others touches.

After a few more minutes of patting his wife's head, the tall Swedish man loomed his neck over to look at the little Finnish man who had so sweetly and comfortably sprawled his petite naked body flush against Berwald's midsection. Berwald made a grunt low in his throat, his face heating up as if someone had dunked it in a pit full of embers. He bit his lip.

"Um...Hej...?"* Berwald rumbled, scratching the back of his head. He was obviously embarrassed and didn't feel the need to hide it. Tino and him had done some things that... Well, that he hoped he would get to do more of later tonight, as well as some other physical activities. But he felt that it had strengthened their relationship too, and for that, Berwald was extremely grateful.

It had taken a long time for Berwald to do it, but ever since that playful kiss back when they were kids, Berwald was glad he had devoted his time to getting Tino to notice him. It was worth all the pain and hardships that being the best warrior in the clan could do to man. Tonight it was all going to pay off.

Oh yes, the way the Finn had been moaning his head off, grabbing and clawing at Berwald's skin, panting and rutting his hips against the giant Swedes. It was amazing. Berwald willed the arousal he was now sporting to go away. He had plenty of time tonight to get frisky with the Finn, now that there was no inklings of doubt that Tino wished, no _wanted_, to be Berwalds Summer Bride. Berwald sighed happily, shifting his crudely made glasses back in place. Ah, today was going to be a wonderful day.

"Hei, yourself."* Tino mused, a giggle on his lips, smile gracing his perfect little face. Berwalds heart melted for what must have been the fifth time today. Oh yes he loved this little man.

`After a few minutes of just lazily looking at the Finn, who was softly lolling his head against Berwald's stomach, Berwald sat up and noticed that the blanket Tino had been using was pooled across his lap. The Finn was languidly wrapping his lithe arms around Berwald's mid section with a satisfied goofy smile. Berwald stiffened immediately, but willed his body to relax. Now was not the time to get an erection. He gritted his teeth.

The Finn giggled and nuzzled his head into the crook of Berwalds shoulder. Berwald hummed, Tino feeling the vibrations from the giants throat in a menstrual of sound and movement, like the rumbled of thunder painting against the sky.

Tino smirked with loving joy and bumped his nose into Berwald's own nose, gazing into those green river stone eyes that always used to terrify him, used to leave him shivering and cowering when he was a little lad playing in the meadows. Those eyes still made him shiver, but it was a lustful shiver that always seemed to roll down his back, making the Finn keen with a new want that he could safely say was love. Yes, Tino wanted love and now he had it. Now, sex was next on his lists of wants. And he was more than determined to get it.

"Berwald~~" Tino murmured lightly, bubbly. Berwald looked down to see that the little Finn had seated him self on the Swede's lap once more, the petite Finn's hips lightly grating against his, causing the thin material of the blanket to slip and slide against his warm skin. Berwald let out a shutter.

"Hnnn?" He grunted, placing his hands lightly on Tino's still hot flesh, running his long fingers against Tino's waist. Tino smirked innocently, his bright eyes betraying his lusty intentions.

"We have a little bit of time left before the festival starts... Did you want to maybe play a little more?" Tino purred, leaning his head closer to Berwalds, his lips just mere centimeters apart.

"Tut, tut, tut, Tino. Really? After all that roughhousing and wrestling, and you still want to go another round? Didn't your mother ever tell you to be patient and wait before gulping down the entire smörgåsbord? You wouldn't want to choke on the Swedish meatballs now would you? Honestly...!"* Elizabeta's voice stung right through Tino's temple, making the Finn jump with a squeak.

In an instant, Berwald's cheeks flaring a bright sunset red, the giant of a Swede wrapped Tino in the blanket and held him to his chest, doing his best to clothe the Finn, wishing to save his dignity from being soiled.

"Oh like, relax studly! Its nothing on him that we haven't already, like, seen!" Feliks' voice groaned, his hands on his hips that were clothed by the white and flower stitched dress, his torso bare, painted with little dollops of pink plant paste, some Polish words and runes decorating his chest, one of them in the shape of a pretty pony.* He smirked with sly intent.

"My, my Tino, if I wasn't already pinning for Liet I'd take on Berwald in a heart beat! Look at those abs, oh~ And those biceps!" Feliks squealed, swooning and fanning himself with his hand. Berwald blushed a deep red, feeling sweat bead down his neck. Was it hot in here, or was it just him?

"Back off Feliks, he's mine..." Tino growled out humorously, unraveling himself from the blanket, snuggling up his body close to Berwald. Berwald blushed a healthy red, before coughing loudly. Was he the only one that found this situation increasingly awkward?

Feliks snorted a laugh before pulling a pissed off looking Nikolas out of the clearing, mumbling something about his outfit having a dangerous lack of pink and Nikolas needing to help him fix it. Berwald sighed with relief. Two less people to invade his and Tino's privacy.

"Oh, you have nothing to be embarrassed about Berwald, I've been bathing Tino and Nikolas since they were babies along with the other village boys, you get used to seeing a multituide of boys anatomy... Tino's tiny Finnish dick is no exception..." Elizabeta mumbled before turning her back to Tino, flicking something out of her finger nails, her eyes mischievous. Tino's face heated up with embarrassment and horror.

"My dick is _not_ tiny!" He shrieked out defensively, his voice sounding more like a little girls than he'd like it to. Elizabeta laughed and turned back to the Finn, hands on her supple hips a grin on her face.

"Compared to that monster it is." Elizabeta laughed loudly gesturing to Berwald's midsection. Berwald made a pained noise in the back of his throat. Great. Now everyone was checking out his junk and making fun of it. Oh the Gods were just hilarious. Fucking _hilarious_.

Tino, annoyed tears on the edge of his eyes stood up, a corner of the blanket clutched to his midsection, the rest of it doing its best to hide Berwalds 'monster'.

"M...My dick's not...tiny...right?" Tino mumbled out to Berwald, not the least bit bashful that he had been caught in the act of cuddling up to the Swede naked not but a few minutes ago.

Berwald looked like a dear caught in the cross fire of a hunters arrow. His eyes widened and, if it was possible at this point, his face heated up with the intensity of a thousand suns. Was he really supposed to answer that? Seriously? Right here and now? Did the Finn have no bashfulness? Well... he did just about deep throat Berwald in the middle of a forest clearing. Berwald cleared his throat, trying to buy added time.

"'s not t'ny...'s c'ute..." Berwald mumbled, his brow furrowed, not sure if that was the answer Tino wanted. Berwald made a grab for his discarded clothing, placing it on his lap so Tino could wrap the blanket around his tiny frame. Berwald was a gentlemen after all.

Tino's lip quivered and his face tore into a pout.

Ah...okay. That was not the answer he wanted.

"I m'an...Ah...Umm..." Berwald tried to speak but was cut off by Elizabeta's amused laughter.

"Never mind him Berwald. I gotta get this little guy dressed and cleaned up for the maidens dance, which is partly your fault since you dirtied him..." Elizabeta smirked like a cat looking at a canary. Berwald made a pained noise in the back of his throat. He seemed to be doing that more than usual lately, damned the Gods and their cruel humor.

"I suggest you get to the village too, the feast will be starting soon and you are the honored warrior, are you not?" Elizabeta smirked, winking to the giant Swede. Berwald swallowed thickly.

"Ja...er...yes." he answered, his face betraying his timidness, he was half naked for Gods sake!

Elizabeta smiled. "I'll get this Finn cleaned up, and after the bonfires you can get him as dirty as you'd like." She giggled, pushing Tino up and out of the clearing. Tino blushed a deep red at the Hungarian's comments before turning back to Berwald who was yanking on his trousers which were still wet from the river-among other things.

"Um...Berwald?" Tino stumbled out of the Hungarians grip before facing Berwald, a sheepish smile engraved on those cute and soft lips that Berwald found out tasted like honey and licorice.

"Hnnn?" Berwald mumbled, noticing from the corner of his eye that the Hungarian was looking fondly at the two of them, as if there love was a show on display just for her. It made Berwald a tad bit uneasy.

"Um...Look for me at the Bonfires, if you will...?" Tino breathed out, his hot breath tickling Berwald's chin. Berwald cleared his throat before kissing Tino chastely on the lips. The Fin shuddered and parted reluctantly when a certain Hungarian women began tapping her foot against the crisp grass of the clearing.

Tino rolled his eyes before giggling joyfully, bumping his nose against Berwald's. Berwald stared longingly into those violet eyes that reminded him so much of morning glories, just when the early morning dew has lightly dusted them.

Tino gave another quick kiss before stepping reluctantly away from Berwald, swinging his hips just for show, the new leather corded necklace dangling against his bone pale skin. Berwald smiled timidly and watched as Tino skipped out of the clearing, blanket in hand, bounce in his step.

Berwald gripped the sopping wet shirt of his tunic and felt some bought of courage rise up from his heart. He took an uneasy breath and opened his mouth.

"T'no..."

The little Finnish man paused, his foot balancing on a log that had long since fallen. "Hmmmm?" He breathed, the summer win caressing his hair, letting it curl over his cute rosy cheeks. Berwald exhaled through his nose. He would not cower, not falter. Berwald looked into those big, violet strewn eyes and smiled, doing his best to dissolve the glare that was so natural to his features.

"T'no... I l've ya'." Berwald murmured. His heart beating faster and faster, like a pounding drum at the Midsummer bonfires, wild and free.

Tino's eyes widened, his step faltering, his breathing coming out in a ragged, jagged mass of air. His lips upturned into one of the sweetest smiles Berwald had ever seen, like an innocent child's, happy and pure.

"I love you too Berwald." Tino said, his voice fluttering and almost raspy, he was on the verge of joyful tears. Berwald smiled, letting lose a bought of air he had not know he was holding in.

Tino turned back to Elizabeta, who was smiling fondly at the two. Tino blushed and downcast his eyes, like a sheepish little princess who had just been kissed by her knight in shinning armor. And perhaps that what Berwald was, his knight in shining armor. Tino nodded. Yes, Berwald certainly was.

Tino smiled to Berwald once more before turning back to a patiently waiting Hungarian who was handing him articles of clothing as he went, scolding him for not calling her to watch them when things got _'really good'._

Berwald took another deep breath and looked at the scattered tree topped sky, seeing the bits of sunlight leak through like tiny translucent waterfalls. He frowned and looked back the way he came. It would take him a good ten minutes if he walked back to the village. Five if he ran.

Berwald looked down to his sopping wet clothes and his discarded boots. His shoulder still ached something fierce, but he would ignore it for now. He was the leader of the warriors dance for Gods sake, he could afford a little pain, because it was all going to be worth his while come tonight when he bedded the Finn down. Berwald smirked to himself. Oh yes, this was going to be a wonderful experience indeed.

...

Scurrying over the brambles and saw grass that attacked his bare legs, Tino pulled at Elizabeta's dress folds, the woman halting in her determined step before turning to Tino, the inklings of a smirk on her face.

"Stop! Too fast! Need...to...breathe..." The Finn panted, placing his hands on his bare knees to support himself, the blanket around his waist slipping ever so slightly. Elizabeta's smirk grew wider, like a valley opening up for the comings of a malevolent flood.

"Is that what you said to Berwald after he fucked your ass?" She giggled, taking the bundle of skirts from Tino's hands. Tino blushed furiously, too embarrassed to get over zealously mad at her.

"No... We didn't get that far! I'm still a maiden!" he mumbled hotly, looking into the crisp water that fed into the lake further down. The water moved sluggishly. After the spring rains had made the water rise the river was fatter than ever, reaching and lapping up to the banks of saw grass, as if it was some great monster gnawing at the sand banks.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes but gave a good innocent smile. She grabbed Tino's hands and gave him a light nudge towards the currants of the water. Tino, a blush still vibrant on his face, did as he was told. He hoped into the lovely chilling water and gave his body a quick scrub down-especially his stomach and between his legs- while Elizabeta placed the skirt on a near by branch so it wouldn't get dirty.

She then draped over a string of flowers that were set into a crown, a display of morning glories and heather ornately stuffed into the emerald twists of greenery and braided grass. Next Tino watched as the Hungarian woman placed a few small clay jars on the sandy beach, a horse haired brush and comb next to the jars. Tino eyed them curiously.

After a quick dunk in the crisp water the Finn trudged out of the rising currant and settled himself on the sandy beaches of the river, squatting down on the blanket. Then the fair haired blonde settled on drying his body off as furiously and fast paced as he could, his hair still feathery damp, sticking to his scalp in cowlicks. Elizabeta chuckled before running a fine tipped ivory comb against the youthful boys locks, Tino relaxing against the wonderful feel of the teeth of the comb.

Once his hair was as dry as it was going to get, Elizabeta handed Tino the thin material of the dress. Tino sighed sourly before begrudgingly placing the skirts over his head, fitting them in place on his jutting girlish hips, his flesh still burning with the sensation of Berwalds touches.

Elizabeta stood back to admire the Finn's dress, a smile on her lips, hands on her cheeks.

"Oh Tino! You look so darling! Almost like a pretty little girl, minus the penis of course." She mumbled, adjusting the crown of flowers on Tino's head. Tino groaned.

"The festival will be staring soon!" He whined. Elizabeta snorted in a laugh before flattening the dress down over the young Finn's body, the vibrant blue dancing against his legs, making them look pale and smooth, almost like a woman's. But Tino bit his lip bitterly and growled. He was not a woman, he was a man. He sighed and looked back to the Hungarian who was busy cracking open one of the seals to the clay jars. Elizabeta peeled off the wax stopper on the jar, untying the sinew twine that held it in place. Tino relaxed his muscles and reminded himself that he was doing this for Berwald, his pride be damned.

Elizabeta sat the young Finn down on a rock, helping him to tie the sash of his belt in a perfect knot-still leaving it loose enough to wiggle around his hips seductively, but not so loose as to come undone. Once that was taken care of Elizabeta told Tino to stand up straight and to not move and inch or he would ruin her handiwork and she would hit him over the head with a frying pan. Tino did as he was told, ever fearful of the Hungarians weapon.

"It _will_ feel cold and it _will_ tickle, but do not move!" The woman warned again, kneeling in front of the Finn. Tino made a confirming noise in his throat, not even daring to nod as an answer.

Elizabeta took a deep breath of air and dipped her horse tail brush into one of the clay jars, the brush tip coming out a dark blue. Tino bit his lip.

"Is this really necessary?" Tino asked, dreading the ticklish feel of the wet brush. Elizabeta sighed in annoyance. She clutched Tino's arm and held it out before her. Tino breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose.

"Oh quit being such a baby! You know as well as I do that this is an important part of the festival! Or how else are you supposed to enchant your Summer husband? You can only do so much with your hips Tino, the paint really helps!"* Elizabeta murmured, painting a thin line against Tino's pale flesh. Tino twisted uncomfortably.

After a few minutes Elizabeta was done with both his arms, cascading spirals dancing along them, with small little dots and criss-crosses. Next she opened up another jar and outlined the blue with white made from crushed bits of sandstone and grounded flour. Tino shivered as the substance was trailed along his forearm and across his belly, dipping low to his hip bone, the skirts not doing any justice in covering up his body as they should.

"You purposely picked this dress because it sunk low on my hips!" Tino accused. Elizabeta grinned, her paintbrush tracing a shape that looked like the symbol of a '' on Tino's soft belly.* Tino's eyes widened.

"Be careful what you write on me damn it! Don't dress me up like a slut!" Tino growled out.

"Says the man who was but a few minutes ago sucking on a Swedish-"

"Okay! Okay! Jeez!" Tino grumbled, going back to remaining perfectly still. Elizabeta jeered her face into a sultry grin.

Next her paint brush lazily traced a slanted X onto Tino's chest, right in the middle between his nipples.* He blushed slightly, remembering how he had teased his nipples with his own hands while dreaming of Berwald. Tino bit his lip.

The light blue paint glided and danced along his skin, leaving a crumbling crust that Elizabeta flaked off gently with her fingers. The pigment still stayed along Tino's smooth skin, but without the cracking clay-ish texture of it.

Next Elizabeta dabbed her index finger into the clay jar that contained the light blue milky paint. Tino knew the paint had been expertly mixed the night before when all the women had gotten prepared to dress up their unwedded daughters for the maidens dance. Tino smiled. He felt like Elizabeta's daughter, being groomed and taught how to snag the perfect man for tonight. He giggled, feeling slightly silly.

After the white and light blue mixture had been patted on his face along with a bit of black paste dotted and lined on his cheeks and forehead, he felt like he was some scary Piru or Lempo.* Elizabeta stepped back and grinned.

Once all the runes were painted, five in total, Tino was finally set free by Elizabeta.* She handed him his crown of morning glories and purple heather which he placed on his head, and some beaded strips of leather for his feet, the clay bead painted painstakingly into oranges and reds. Tino thanked her before placing the bits of leather on his feet, tying them tightly. Small brass bells were sewn neatly on the leather with sinew that jingled when he walked or stomped on the ground. He strangely felt pretty. He damn well liked the feeling.

Elizabeta clapped her hands together and smiled brightly, admiring her handy work. Tino, as giddy as ever, twirled in his new costume, the sash fluttering, the skirts of the dress opening up like a flower fresh in bloom. He took a big breath of air and held out his arm for his friend, to which Elizabeta hooked her own hands through, hiking up her own dress up, a lovely olive green color with lacy dove white covering.

Off they went down the road towards the village, the first inkling of smoke from the cooking fires burning brightly against the hot and blistering summer air. Already they could hear the children laughing and the smell the sweet treats that were being baked for tonight. Tino licked his lips. There was only one treat that he wanted tonight, and he was determined as ever to snag it.

...

"So then I said to Norge, 'Norge, I don't care how horny you are! We have to wait till tonight for ya' ta lift up your skirts'!" Mathias cackled, sloshing his cup of mead around, some of the drink spilling to the floor. The men crowded around him, Gilbert, Frances, and Antonio both laughed boisterously, their own drinks spilling to the floor with quick plops.

Mathias grinned wolfishly before nudging Gilbert in the ribs. "By the end of the warriors dance, that little Norwegian fox'll be begging to get into my pants!" Mathias chuckled, wiping his liquor spilled mouth. Gilbert cackled low in his throat, wishing Mathias the best of luck.

Mathias sighed brightly, getting ready to tell another one of his crude stories when he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. He turned around with a goofy smile, a dazed look enveloping his eyes, only when he fully saw who had approached him did his eyes widen with uneasiness.

"Ah...Ber-Berwald, ol' buddy ol' pal! Di-did ya find the calf?" Mathias asked, his words slurred from the honeyed drink. Berwald glared down at the man, cracking his knuckles, his face none too happy.

"Wasn't a c'lf...was th're?" Berwald growled out, his stare growing more angry by the second, as if someone had plucked a tidal wave from the sea itself and threw it into Berwald's eyes. Mathias swallowed deeply, his drinking companions all since disappeared after they saw that the Swedish man had not joined them to drink. Mathias shifted uneasily.

"Ah...Well, actually, no. There wasn't a calf...per se..." Mathias drawled on, grinning anxiously. Berwald narrowed his eyes to angry slits. He grabbed a fist full of Mathias's red tunic in his hands and pulled back his fist. Mathias shut his eyes tight, an impish noise of fear flying from his lips.

He winced and waited for the blow. Seconds passed and still he felt nothing but the pressure of Berwalds fists barred into his tunic, stretching his neck up. He dared to open one of his eyes and sighed with relief. Berwalds fist was inches from Mathias's eyes, before the Swede pulled it back with a smug smirk, well, as smug as you could get while still glaring.

"Th'nks..." Berwald mumbled before untwisting his fingers out from Mathias's tunic. Mathias looked taken aback, rubbing his hands against his chest, as if feeling if he was all in once piece. He furrowed his brow and looked away as Berwald walked towards his long house, leaving the Dane confused and still a bit drunk.

Mathias shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of his spiked mead, grumbling.

"Must be a Swedish thing..." He muttered to himself, taking the last swig of his drink.

...

Tino was running, scrambling over the dusty ground of his aunts long house, balancing plate after plate and bowl after bowl of steaming hot dishes that were to be shared at the giant feast. Nikolas was in charge of helping carry out the drinks, pales of water, barrels upon barrels of mead, honeyed milk, and even a few clay jugs filled to the brim with spiced or watered down wine. Tino licked his lips... He was so damn hungry, and so thirsty... But he willed himself to not touch a bite. If his aunt caught him even sneaking one crumb! Well, his little ass would be kicked so hard, he might fly all the way up to the top branches of Yggdrasill!*

So, deciding to be a good little boy, he quickly balanced a steaming bowl of stewed squash, boiled water fowl eggs, a bit of dried salmon, and his favorite, Reikäleipä bread, all in his tiny little hands.*

Tino stumbled outside from his long house to see other young teens walking along the path bringing their families share of the food that was to be joyfully consumed. Tino, pausing briefly to blush at the fact that he was dressed like a woman, nudged up the various dishes in his arms and hands, and, walking like a crab, followed the other youths who were making their way to the clearing.

Once there at the Troll's boulders, Tino carefully set his families portion of the meal on one of the crudely made tables set up in the small meadow. Already tall men and women were lighting the spiraled torches that decorated and scattered the meadow, their tall stalks burning with such an intensity that Tino had to stand in awe before the light.

He really did love this time of year, when all the village got together to celebrate the warm weather and the wealth of the crops that they had grown that would soon be dried by the sun. Tino smiled to himself and arranged the dishes neatly, noticing a familiar face in the corner of his eye.

Feliks and Nikolas-carrying Björt- made their way over to Tino, the edges of a smirk on both their faces. Tino groaned aloud. Oh now he was going to get it.

"Like, Tino, whats up with you and the Swede? Can't get enough of mister Studly or something?" Feliks giggled, setting down a wicker basket of freshly picked apples, some of them still a bright and tart green. Tino furrowed his brow and hissed out his teeth.

"None of your business." He murmured out, busying himself with fixing his skirts that had slipped down his hip again. Damn Elizabeta and her sense of humor.

Feliks held his hands up in a defensive manner. "Like, sorry! Didn't mean to like, cross a line or something." He giggled once more, slinking his arm around Tino's shoulder, all three boys making their way to the big clearing near the big boulders that were rumored to be the remains of sun-struck-Trolls.*

Tino sighed and did his best to smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't get mad..." He murmured, but Feliks cut him off by raising his hand.

"No, no, its like, totally cool! I was too nosy... I just have, like, once question for you..." Feliks grinned, flipping his hair up that had a few braided strands of his wheat colored hair. Little dotted golden yarrow buds had been wedged into the mans fair hair, making his emerald eyes sparkle. Tino gulped.

"What?" He asked timidly, his bare feet avoiding a fallen green pine cone. Nikolas and Feliks both looked to each other, a spark in their eyes. Oh this was not going to be good.

"Like, how big is it and junk?" Feliks asked, chewing his bottom lip, his hands to his chest. Nikolas rolled his eyes before pushing both the boys along further down the path, while balancing his younger brother in his arms. The aspen saplings and shimmering heather flowers guided their way.

Tino blushed from ear to ear, his lips quivering. He shut his eyes tight and, with a sheepish upturn of his lips, looked to Feliks.

"Monstrous." Was all the little Finn said, his voice hoarse and weak for a mere second. Feliks paused, his eyes wide before he snorted and laughed loudly, getting the attention of the other villagers who were making their way to the Troll clearing, wearing thier best holiday dresses and tunics.

Tino clamped his hands over Feliks's big mouth and tried to shush him, but the man just laughed and laughed again more wildly, stumbling into a tree. Nikolas, rolling his eyes for what must have been the fifth time that day, pulled the two boys apart and gave them a dull kick to their asses, telling him that he would go all Troll on their butts if they didn't behave. Björt began to giggle madly. Both boys rubbed their sore rumps before begrudgingly agreeing to behave, at least till after the feast. And oh what a feast it was.

When the three boys got to the center of the meadow that was edged with tall ash and oak trees, the simply stared with wide eyes. Blankets of deer and cow hide had already been sprawled out haphazardly by the villagers, huge bundles of wildflowers cut and decorating each little nesting spot. The boys scooted up closer towards the bonfires so as to get a better look at the warriors dance when it commenced, and placed thier own blankets down to mark thier spot. Men and woman and children who were lucky enough to attend were already languidly laughing and sipping at their cups of watered wine.

Huge bundles of flowers and greenery were cascaded along the areas heavy and monstrous boulders, making the shells of rocks look bright and happy. Thick slabs of scented incense and charcoal already littered the area, filling the warm and bright air with wonderful scents.

The buffet table was already full to the brim, with foods such as boiled black berries that were strewn with sugar and nutmeg, rye bread dipped in thick pea soup, salmon with lingon berries shoveled on top, pickled herring in huge clay pots, tart apples baked in the nestle of hot coals, or the rich and creamy meat that was slowly cooking on the ceder fed fires. Even an entire cow had been slaughtered and was now roasting healthy on a spit, the remains of the cow of course buried with respect next to the meadow paddocks. Nikolas, Tino, and Feliks blinked in awe.

In the middle of the shaded boulder clearing sat still and quiet a giant wave of timber and hay. A deep pit that had been supposedly dug out by mysterious Trolls years and years ago was filled to the brim with dried winter hay, Autumn leaves, and green tree saplings to create mystic smoke for when the fire was lit.

The villagers had already stocked up the pit near sky high, with ropes of flowers, shells, braided grass, and honey cakes as an offering to the Gods. Tino could only stare, the pit of his stomach churning into fear once more. He would have to dance against these roaring flames? Practically bare and naked? Tino felt his heart plummet, his courage slowly dropping down to the floor in a puddled mass at his feet.

"Hey..." Nikolas's voice broke the uneasy silence. Feliks and Tino turned to where their friend was pointing and saw that some of the men had already herded the cattle downward to the meadows by the light of the torches. Men on small Icelandic ponies, sinew ropes across their shoulders, nudged the cattle along with blunt sticks, calling out to them with whistles or clicks of their tongue. Tino watched as one of the the calf's keened low in her throat, a small little white dog barking madly at her, nipping at her tail. Tino's eyes widened. He knew that little dog!

Tino, deciding to push his fear to the back of his heart, sought to distract himself with trying to catch the small little dog who was now yipping and barking playfully at two young cows, their newly brushed coats gleaming in the shading sun. Tino excused himself from Nikolas's and Feliks company to trot along the meadow, careful not to step on any of the laid out mats or chatting people.

He crossed the May Pole that was glittering with freshly saffron dyed ribbons, flowers dangling lightly down the greened pole.* Already people were dancing around it, women's skirts fluttering, men's bare chests glistening. Tino bit his lip, his brain already conjuring up images of a sweat drenched Berwald. Tino shivered.

The little Finn skipped along, his feet making a pleasant jingling noise as they bounced and padded across the earth. Once he made it to the outer meadow where small thin creeks flowed, he saw the first heads of the cattle, heavy brass bells swinging from their necks, some with blackberries paint drawn on their rumps and necks. Tino made his way to the two little calf's who were being bullied by the even smaller white dog.

Tino smiled to the puppy before scooping her up just in time, as she was about to bite one of the cows tails playfully.

"Thats not very nice!" Tino scolded the puppy, nestling her between his shoulder and cheek. The puppy yipped playfully before licking Tino's face, making a low bark of bewilderment as she tasted the bitterness of the paint etched on Tino's face. Tino smiled and giggled before making his way out of the herd's men's way, puppy in hand. He patted the puppy upon her cute little head and made his way back to the mass of people that was growing every minute.

Scanning his eyes across the accumulating crowd of people, he was able to spot Feliks and Nikolas sitting next to the two Italian twins and a petite Japanese man. Feliks was bouncing up and down, waving a bright pink and white blanket that he boasted he weaved himself, Nikolas sitting next to him, face palming.

Tino giggled before gently and gingerly weaving in and out through the crowd of squatted people till he sat down next to Nikolas, who was holding Björt in his arms, finger painting the childs face with bright reds and blues. The little boy giggled and munched on the hard heel of some rye bread. Nikolas turned to Tino and raised his eyebrow up.

"Whats with the dog?" He muttered, pinching Björts cheeks. The child let out an annoyed wail. "Ow Ow Ow!" He grumbled, smacking Nikolas's hands away.

"Shes been following me around lately. Isn't she just adorable?" Tino smiled, kneeling down on one of the woolen blankets that was stretched out over the tall meadow grass. Feliciano grinned and tickled the puppy underneath her chin. The little dog panted and licked his fingers, her beady eyes sparkling.

"Ve~She's like Ludwig's doggies! Only smaller and not a trained killer!" Feliciano giggled, picking the dog up and placing her on his lap. Tino laughed nervously.

"Is that so...?" He mumbled, kissing the dog on the head. The little puppy yipped and rolled over on her back, her pink little tummy skyward. Björt too giggled and clasped his hands on the dogs ears, tugging slightly, making pleased noises. "So cute! Shes so cute!" he squealed, his kid side getting the better of him.

"Have you name her yet,Tino-san?" The petite Japanese man named Kiku asked the little Finn, a soft smile on his usually careful face. Tino shook his head.

"No... She mostly only comes when Berwald and I are near each other so, I haven't had much time to name her." The little Finnish man confessed, rubbing the puppies belly furiously. She panted and wagged her tail wildly, her pink little tongue darting out occasionally.

"Ah. That is right, you are in the maidens dance for Berwald-san?" Kiku asked, patting the little snow colored dog with gentle care. The dog pushed her wet nose into Kiku's palm and gave him a little lick with her tongue. Kiku smiled.

"Ah, yeah. Thats right. Does the whole village know about that?" Tino asked, a healthy blush littering his face. Romano snorted in an annoyed laugh.

"'Course everybody knows! The guy practically throws himself at you every time he gets a chance! Who wouldn't notice? At least your love interest isn't some happy-go-lucky-always-smiling-tomato-freak-eating-jerk-face." Romao growled out, crossing his hands over his chest, glaring down at the edge of the blades of grass, as if waiting for them to combust.

Feliciano laughed nervously. "Oh, come on Fratello, Antonio isn't that bad! He gave you tomatoes, remember? I'm sure he loves you just as much as you love him fratello!"* Feliciano wrapped his arms around his elder brothers shoulders, making the boy sputter.

"Ha! Pshhh! Yeah right, like I love that bastard!" He muttered spasmodically. Feliciano pouted. "Thats what you said in your sleep..." He mumbled. Romano's face grew as red as a ripe tomato.

"Stai zitto!"* The more darker haired Italian boy screeched before standing up and hotly waking away to wait near the food table.* Feliciano pouted sadly. Feliks hugged him and said that he wasn't to blame, to which Feliciano just nodded solemnly and picked at the grass.

Tino bit his lip and placed the puppy in his lap, the little dog wriggling and licking like mad. Tino lightly patted Feliciano on the shoulder, a sympathetic smile on his lips. The russet haired Italian man looked up to the Finnish man and sniffled a little bit.

Tino smiled brightly, like the blinding sun when it reflects off of freshly fallen snow.

"Feli, would you like to help name her?" Tino gestured to the puddle of fluff in his hands, the dog's tiny little teeth playfully gnawing everything in sight, including the sashes on Tinos dress.

Feliciano wiped his tear filled eyes and looked at Tino with hope in his pretty amber eyes.

"C-can I?" He asked softly, looking to the small dog. She gave a pleasant bark and rolled on her back, her pink belly for the world to see.

Tino nodded and smiled. "Like, you should totally name her "fabulous -twilight-pinky." Feliks muttered.

"I am fond of the name 'Miku'."* Kiku mumbled, straightening the pretty ribbons to his Japanese dress wear that he explained to Tino was called a Kimono. Feliciano giggled but patted the dog on the head.

"Hmmm... well, lets see ve~. She is very white..."

"Like an egg." Nikolas commented. Tino nodded. "Yes, yes, but I think it should be something more than egg..." Tino mumbled. Feliciano furrowed his brow, deep in concentration, or as concentrated as one can be when there entire life seemed to revolve around pasta and German men...

"Shes pretty too." Feliks said happily, scrunching up the dogs face in the cutest of looks. "Like a flower." He mumbled, petting the dogs soft plush fur.

"I got it! Lets name her Bloody-Flower-Egg!" Tino spoke with excitement, rubbing the dog's tummy. Everyone's eyes widened, even the white dog looked a bit put off by the name.

"Er...Like, how about no?" Feliks flipped his hair with his hand with a dismissing gesture. Tino grumbled.

"Perhaps, Hanatamago, would be suffice?" Spoke the timid little Japanese man's voice.

"Ve~~Sounds pretty! What's it mean?" Feli asked, making a braid out of a few long stems of yarrow stalks.

"It means "Flower-Egg" in Japanese. I believe it would be much more...attractive than in English, if you don't mind me saying." Kiku murmured, a sheepish smile on his lips, his dark eyes blinking.

Tino mulled over the new possible name in his head. It did sound pretty and cute, and it did seem to suit the pup.

"Okay. Hanatamago it is!" Tino cried out with joy. The little pup gave an especially loud bark in approval, jumping from Tino's lap to frolic around the little group of boys, her tail swishing madly.

But before they could play any longer with their new little furry friend, the sound of a giant bull horn cascaded across the meadows. Within a few seconds everyone became hushed and not even the sound of a laugh or a whisper could be heard. Tino and the rest of the group all focused their attention to where the blasting sound had come from. In an instant Tino's heart sped up with the ferocity of a wild horse charging into battle, leaving the Finn breathless.

Standing at the main front of the clearing stooped the hunting party, all bare chested, with paint scrawled in intimidating lines on their chiseled bodies, nestling all the way down to thier jutting hip bones. Tino and the rest of the boys let loose a big intake of breath. Whether they liked to admit it, each pair of their eyes quickly sought out their preferred male, hell, even Nikolas was having a hard time keeping his gaze away from the brightly grinning Dane.

Tino felt his breath shutter downward into his lungs, his throat closing slightly. He craned his head up and in a matter of seconds, his light violet eyes came face to face with a pair of stern, sea-glass colored orbs that smoldered and stared into his very soul, making his toes curl with a shiver.

It was Berwald, clad in nought but a thin skirt wrappings of some animal hide and scraps of navy blue tunic cloth to give off an intimidating vibe, the rest of the men similarly clothed. Tino realized that it must be time to elect the leader warrior, the best provider for the clan. Everyone in the village knew that this year Berwald would win the honor.

It seemed that the young handsome Swede had been pinning to be victorious at this years ceremony of strength, but Tino knew the real reason for Berwald's thirst of accomplishment. Tino smirked to himself, staring Berwald straight in the eye.

He knew the Swede had done his very best to catch the eyes of the Finn. Whether it was when they were young, placing baskets upon baskets of berries on Tino's doorsteps, leaving corn dollies against his window sill, or just simply staring at him always during festival events.* It seemed that even when they were gangly teens the tall and rough Swede had always had a certain, 'thing' for Tino. Tino licked his lips. Berwald's patience would not go undeserved if Tino had anything to say about it. He owed Berwald a good eleven years of affection, and he was more than happy to repay it all back tonight, ten fold.

Tino lifted up his fingers to grace them at his lips, blowing a quick and seductive kiss to the nicely built man. Berwald, gaze faltering for a second, turned his head down and coughed into his hand, his face a bright red. Tino smirked. Oh yes, he was going to have fun tonight, he'd make sure of it.

...

**I made this chapter extra long for you guys~! Hanatamago finally gets a name! Yeah!**

**Shit lotta' Authors notes!**

**Authors Notes:**

-"Um...Hej...?"*- **"Hej" means 'hello' in Swedish**

-"Hei, yourself."*** -"Hei" means "hello" in Finnish**

- "Tut, tut, tut, Tino. Really? After all that roughhousing and wrestling, and you still want to go another round? Didn't your mother ever tell you to be patient and wait before gulping down the entire smörgåsbord? You wouldn't want to choke on the Swedish meatballs now would you? Honestly...!"* **-"smörgåsbord" Is a Scandinavian type of meal most popular in Swedish that is like a big buffet style way of eating.**

- "Feliks' voice groaned, his hands on his hips that were clothed by the white and flower stitched dress, his torso bare, painted with little dollops of pink plant paste, some Polish words and runes decorating his chest, one of them in the shape of a pretty pony.*" **-Runes are an alphabet that was used most commonly in Norwegian and British history; they are still used today by Pagans everywhere, though they are mostly associated with the use of magic now.**

-"Oh quit...You can only do so much with your hips Tino, the paint really helps!"* **- I am taking certain liberties here, but I know that tribal paint was an important part of festivals and holidays in British pagan culture and Native American culture, but I'm not so sure about Scandinavian. But basically, the paint represented different things, such as a persons achievements, status, or wants and wishes. They could also be seen as to grab attention or to stun people.**

-"Elizabeta grinned, her paintbrush tracing a shape that looked like the symbol of a '' on Tino's soft belly.*" **- The '' symbol in Nordic Rune divination is the symbol called "Kenaz" it is a rune of fiery attributes and is symbolized by a torch. It is used on Tino a lustful symbol, because well, this little Finn is going to get some fun tonight anyway! Haha**

-"Next her paint brush lazily traced a slanted X onto Tino's chest, right in the middle between his nipples.*" **- The Rune that resembles the symbol of a slanted X is called Nied. Nied is the rune for patience and in this case, your unfulfilled needs by your partner that you want to be satisfied that have gone unrewarded by patience.**

-"After the white and light blue mixture had been patted on his face along with a bit of black paste dotted and lined on his cheeks and forehead, he felt like he was some scary Piru or Lempo."*** -A 'Piru' is a Finnish spirit that is mischievous and bad, a Lempo is along the same lines but a bit more destructive, like a demon.**

-"Once all the runes were painted, five in total, Tino was finally set free by Elizabeta.*" **- I used the runes called "Thurisaz" "Gifu" "Wunjo" "Nied" and "Kenaz".**

-"Well, his little ass would be kicked so hard, he might fly all the way up to the top branches of Yggdrasill!*" **- "Yggdrasill" is the old ash tree that holds up the heavens and the courts of the Gods and beyond in Norse Mythology.**

-"So, deciding to be a good little boy, he quickly balanced a steaming bowl of stewed squash, boiled water fowl eggs, a bit of dried salmon, and Tino's favorite, Reikäleipä bread, all in his tiny little hands.*" **-"Reikäleipä" is a Finnish bread baked in flat rings that is hanged up to dry and age during the winter months when it can properly be enjoyed in the warmer months.**

-"He giggled once more, slinking his arm around Tino's shoulder, all three boys making their way to the big clearing near the big boulders that were rumored to be the remains of sun-struck-Trolls.*" **- In Scandinavian folklore it was said that if a Troll went outside in the sun he or she would turn to stone.**

-"He crossed the May Pole that was glittering with freshly saffron dyed ribbons, flowers dangling lightly down the greened pole.*" **-More common in Sweden, it was a giant pole adorned with flowers and ribbon to represent a phallus, and once erected in the earth it was supposed to impregnate the soil to make it fertile.**

-Oh, come on Fratello, Antonio isn't that bad! He gave you tomatoes, remember? I'm sure he loves you just as much as you love him fratello!"* **- "fratello" means "brother" in Italian**

-"I am fond of the name 'Miku'."*** - "Miku" is one of the Japanese vocaloids...Yeah I have no life.**

-"Whether it was when they were young, placing baskets upon baskets on Tino's doorsteps, leaving corn dollies against his window sill, or just simply staring at him always during festival events.*"** -"Corn Dollies" are little dolls made from corn husks or other plant materials either used for toys or rituals, especially in the Fall months**.

- ""Stai zitto!"* The more darker haired Italian boy screeched before standing up and hotly waking away to wait near the food table.*"** -"Stai zitto" is loosely translated to "Shut Up" in Italian.**


	10. Warriors Dance

**Hey Guys! Sorry for the really long wait! I've just been so busy with 'Barbarians Healer' that I forgot about this little gem! I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! (If I did, Sweden would be naked all~ the time.) PLEASE REVIEW, IT KEEPS THE MAN EATING DOLPHINS AT BAY! Thank you to **MalinChan**, **yotzie** and **Ruusu** for being my Swedish/Finnish translators! This chapter is ****dedicatedt to **MeesterFinland** for their private message—you really helped me find faith in this story again!**

…...

As soon as the men were settled on the stamped grass of the clearing, everyone became quiet in the warm and bright summer air. Horns of mead against lips were lowered, fiery red apples roasting against the hot coals suddenly forgotten, pipes filled with tobacco, smoldering and smoking were snuffed, jugs of golden and grainy ale set down on the constructed tables for the feast. Everyone was silent with anxiousness, anticipation, and delight. Not even the cattle or dogs stirred in the green bejeweled clearing. Only the wind had the sudden joy to slither her fingers against the trees, making a joyous sound by swinging the tree boughs and leaves. Everyone else was content to just sit with awe.

But it was Tino who was probably the most absorbed in the spectacular and honorable event. It was time to crown the best warrior in the village. The man who had worked the hardest this year. The man who was able to hitch up a yolk to a pair of oxen, skin a rabbit with ease, supply an array of food for the village, from the wild elk to the bristly raspberry groves. The man who was the best provider for the village would be crowned. Tino knew exactly who would be granted such an honor, and it made him smile brightly.

The little Finn, shaking nervously from his seat against the lithe and tall stalks of meadow grass, watched with anxiously growing eyes as a man, tall and broad, with long watery corn colored hair that reached his waist walked to the front of the man. His hair gleamed bright against the torch lights, parts of it braided along his ears, giving off the appearance of a woodland elf.

Next to Tino, Feliciano squirmed and grinned brightly, pointing to the man, his voice a gleeful whisper.

"That's Ludwig's grandfather!" The wide eyed Italian spoke out, his outstretched hand quickly shaking around and around. From the lined up men of the hunting party, the stiff and serious blue eyed Ludwig quickly glanced over to the small Italian who was waving madly like an idiot, singsonging his favorite phrase of "ve~".

The young German man shook his head from dull annoyance before he gave the amber eyed Italian a small, sheepishly loving smile. The Italian grinned in return and, now fully content, sat down among the grass, petting the white curly coated dog that had settled to nip at a few blades of alfalfa underneath her feet.

Tino smiled at the Italian man before looking back to the cleared space of meadow that housed the proudly standing hunting party. He knew the Italian man had been pinning for the young German or a while now. He was glad to see that the two would finally be reunited at the bonfires.

Tino let his own heart felt smile twitch at his lips. He himself would also be joined with a certain someone, at least, if the other villages didn't get to Berwald first. But Tino, though a bit worried about his potential dancing skills, knew that no girl, no matter how infatuated with the tall Swede, would dare to approach him. Berwald was just...so damn intimidating! With his hawk-like gaze that stunned a person to the ground, unable to move as if their feet were laden with quicksand! Or his height, as tall as the sacred Ash tree that looms over the forest with pride.* Or his guttered speech that sounded like the weighty snarl or grumbled from a sleepy mountain Troll.

But that didn't matter to Tino, in fact, it rather heightened the man's attraction to the Finn. Berwald was a fine specimen of man. Tall, broad shouldered, strong, intelligent, kind... He was everything Tino wanted in a man and more.

Tino would not let some big breasted and long haired women steal away his man, oh no! Tonight he would do his very best to attract the Swede like a moth to a flame. Tino knew had to sway his hips, how to dip to the ground with a sloping curve to show off his smooth thighs, his milky white legs. He knew how to flutter his eye lashes, how to flicker his gaze over the man's face, leading him to drink in the sight of Tino's body. Elizabeta had taught him well. He only hoped it would pay off tonight.

Tino let his gaze flicker over the giant of a man who was watching the old Germanic leader stride towards the hunting party. Tino sighed out with a heated breath, the air around him buzzing with summer warmth. He just couldn't wait till the fires were lit and the dancing was done and the feasting was over—for then, was when the really magic would begin. When he could finally unite himself with his one true love.

Ludwig's grandfather, wearing a deep and verdant green colored holiday tunic, stiffly and triumphantly stepped towards the crowded line of men, Mathias and Berwald first in line, Antonio, Ludwig, Gilbert, and Toris standing proudly behind them, their fingers clenched at their sides, nervous smiles on their lips.

Berwald was the most nervous of them all, sweat beading against his neck, his gaze glaring and wide, the swimming green color of his eyes as heated and mad as the sea itself. He just had to gain the honor of best warrior, he had to. He didn't so much as want to prove it to himself that he could be a good provider, a good warrior, a good husband. He wanted to prove it to Tino. He wanted there to not be a singe doubt in the little Finn's mind that Berwald loved him, that Berwald could take care of him, that Berwald could treat him with the sweetest love that the little Finnish man deserved. Berwald wanted Tino to be his wife, he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

Ludwig's grandfather, brows knitted together, face set in a thin line against his softly paling skin, raised his hands upward to the sky, lightly turning his body to face the crowd of people. His posture and features made him look like a giant shimmering aspen, tall and proud. Everyone grew silent.

The blonde haired man scanned his sharp green eyes over the crowd, as if daring someone to speak. No one spoke. No one moved. No one _breathed_.

Content that no one would interrupt him, the Germanic man cleared his throat into his fist before speaking into the hushed silence, only the crackling of the torches and the whispers of the wind entreating the clearing to noise.

"Welcome, to the Midsummer Bonfires!" He shouted with a roaring breath, like a wild mountain lion hissing into the crisp and dry forest air. A few seconds stunned the onlookers into muteness before they all reared up from their seats, clapping and cheering. Howls from the men, cry's from the women, laughter from the children. The night was alive with noise!

The fires around the clearing, the small and nimble torchlight seemed to smoke and blaze brightly like an unleashed animal—wild and strong. The smoke rose and spiraled into a stream of spirited life, as if they were created by the potent magic of the Gods themselves.

Women rustled their skirts, imitating delicate and fickle birds showing off the brilliant colors of their feathers. Men raised their hands into fists and pounded at the earth as if the soil was a freshly tuned drum. The night was alive. With sight, sound, taste, and touch. It was all burning and sparking into a madden dash of heat and something more tangible—lust.* The night of the Bonfire was upon them.

Tino could feel it, the power each voice held, the happiness, the humbleness, the shimmering energy that each person called and fed. The sheer power of it drowned out into the clearing, making the flowers look brighter, the flames feel hotter, the sun look grander. It was like...Magic.

The wind took an up currant of shuddering warmth as it blew the ribbons that swirled against the may pole with a slither and shake, making the cords of greenery twist and flutter like winded birds spiraling across the sky. Everyone turned their faces upward to the sun, mindful of its overpowering heat. They all basked in it, all reveled in its warmth.

The tall Germanic man called the attention of the people once more, this time by bringing his hands down to rest at his sides, his sharp jawed face turning to the men that were patiently, if not nervously lined up, their hands squeezed at their sides, mouths set tight, slithers of sweat curling along their taunt and bare-painted bodies.

Everyone's eyes caught the simple and quiet movement of the elder Germanic man. They all hushed the cries from their throats, the women quieted down, smoothing hands over their skirts. Men sprawled their palms on the earth and gazed up with blinking eyes. Their attention had been captivated.

"These men that you all see before you—they are the villages best warriors. Each man poses a great power, a great ability that has granted them the honor to stand before Ymir's broken bones and flesh, to stand before the vulnerable and unlit flame of the Sun."* The lined face of the not-so-old yet not-so-young Germanic man flickered with a sense of deep and loving pride. Tino recognized it as a look that one gives to their child in a way to show love. The Finn sank lower into the scratchy blanket, his eyes never leaving the tall and solid figure of the Swede.

Tino wrung his hands around the blanket that was around his naked waist tightly, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach that were swarming and erupting in his belly. Oh Berwald just had to win! He had worked so hard, had done so much for the wealth and security of the village. Tino bit his lip and nervously twisted his fingers into the bolt of cloth that made up his dress, his elbows awkwardly covering his bared chest even though it was customary for the men to dress bare with their torso.

But amidst all these people, their eyes quietly lulling over to the dress that covered his shaking legs—well it just set him over the edge with embarrassment.

He had no clue if any other male had dared to show himself in the maidens dance, had dared to find a potential husband by stomping and singing against the earth. It suddenly made him queasy and a bit self conscience. But, he was doing this for Berwald! Berwald would chose him and Tino would choose Berwald. Tino bit his bottom lip with a bit of anxiousness, his eyes scanning over to the patiently sitting virgin women who, like him, would try to find a husband tonight. Tino took a painful gulp of air, his hands shaking over his dress. _Stay calm, stay calm!_ He urged himself.

"These past years out tribe has seen many disasters and challenges. From the summer flooding, to the waring nations to the east, to the early migration of reindeer..." Almost every villager nodded in agreement, their eyes careful, watchful like a hawks. Tino shifted in his grass laced seat with caution, his eyes never leaving the Germanic man's face.

"Yet these men have shown nothing but resilience and strength in these times of strife. That is why we honor them and all that they have done for the good of our village, for the good of their people!" The man shouted with fire, smashing his fist against his breast in a sign of respect and strength, the six men lined up before him bowed slowly, their eyes darkening with something more than the promise of honor and glory.

In the crowed the men felt it, the women too. Soon, it would be time to announce the warriors dance where each man would prove himself to a potential lover...

"Each man has shown a true array of skills and strength..." Ludwig's grandfather turned to the lined men who were by now fidgeting where they stood, their eyes wide, sweat beading down their necks. They looked like frighted deer standing before a powerful king Stag, not at all like the confident hunters they were just this morning.

The tall Germanic blonde walked down the line stiffly, slowly, till he came to stand next to the brunette Lithuanian, the man's slender shoulders shaking slightly from nervousness. The shivering brunette nodded softly to the blonde elder in a sign of respect, but he would not meet his eyes—probably for fear of being glared at.

Sitting in front of the clearing with Nikolas and Tino, Feliks shrieked with giddiness, hopping up and down on his knees, his eyes glued on Toris as if his very life depended on it. Tino looked over to his giddy friend and smiled sweetly, happy that Toris had such a...well... passionate, supporter.

Yet Tino's eyes were thrown back to the clearing when, with one sweeping motion, the blonde and green eyed man placed his left hand heavily on Toris's shoulders, making the poor Lithuanian jump a bit in his step, before nervously laughing it off. The man glared down at the lithe hunter with slitted eyes before clearing his throat slowly.

"Toris, who has shown _cunning_ during the hunt, like the clever fox..." The long haired blonde man spoke thickly, moving along the line to place his hands on his grinning and eager Albino grandson. The Prussian man smiled smugly, as if he had already been congratulated with the wonderful honor of being the best provider.

"Gilbert, who has shown _alertness_ during the hunt, much like the eyes of the Eagle..."

At the mention of his name, the shockingly ruby eyed man hissed out happily with a long string of "keseseseseseses..." His grandfather, sighing from annoyance, moved on.

"Ludwig, who has shown _leadership_ during the hunt, like the triumphant wolf..." Once again, the heavy pale hand was placed on the taller, more brooding looking German, the sharp blue eyes of hunter never blinking.

Ludwig's grandfather nodded before he stepped again on the dirt laden floor that crackled and slithered underneath his feet. He placed his hands on the man next in line, Antonio, making the happy Spaniard smile brightly, his emerald eyes sparkling like the warm and shimmering ocean.

"Antonio, who has shown _bravery_ during the hunt, much like the rampant bull..." The Spanish man grinned and blew a kiss to a hunched figure lingering near the feast table. Tino strained his eyes but recognized the now growling and pouting figure as Lovino. The Finnish man had to place his hands over his mouth to keep from bursting into giggles.

Then the Germanic blonde side stepped and touched Mathias's shoulder firmly, as if to chip off some of the man's happiness and glee from his mischievously blue eyes. Ludwig's grandfather sighed tiredly.

"Mathias, who has shown _stealth_, like the wild footed Coyote..." Mathias grinned frantically, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. The blonde Dane gaze as the seated Norwegian before he took a moment to grin towards him and make a not-so-subtle hip thrust in Nikolas's general direction, making a few people giggle and resulting in the Norwegian tacking on a death glare to his face as well as a dull red blush that stung his cheeks.

Seated next to Tino, Nikolas snorted underneath his breath with a mocking tone, crossing his arms over his chest. Tino smiled softly at his friend and did his best to not laugh. But then, the moment Tino had been waiting for quickly grabbed the Finn's attention back to the clearing where the last of the warriors stood.

Ludwig's grandfather finally came to stand near Berwald, laying his hands flush against the man's broad shoulders. Berwald's eyes flickered over to Tino for a mere second, making the Finn's toes curl and his throat go dry.

"Berwald, who has shown _strength_, like the ferocious bear..." Berwald, glare set in place, stared into Tino once more, his sea green eyes seeming to carve into the Finn's own violet eyes, leaving Tino gasping for breath. Something odd and tremblingly warm began to toss in his stomach and he suddenly felt light headed.

Suddenly, the blonde Germanic man stood away from Berwald and regained his past position in front of all the men, his face to the audience.

"But..." the Germanic man's voice grew low, like the suns soft retreat behind the hills once night has fallen. Yet night would not make such a victory tonight, oh no. It was the suns time to reign, for the essence of the God to take a hold of the fires of day and feast from the joys of light.*

"There has been one man among the rest that has proved himself the best provider for the village. One man that has shown power and might on the battle field and absolute skill in the hunting grounds. This man will be be crowned with the leaves of the Oak and will be honored with first pick of the dancers during the maidens dance!"

The people around the bonfires clearing whooped with joy, the atmosphere becoming tense and hot with energy and joy.

Tino clutched his hands in his lap, twisting nervously against the cloth of the dress that embarrassingly left his torso bare against the hot summer air. But he couldn't let that distract him now. It was time! He only hoped Berwald would win, his Berwald. His strong, handsome, sweet caring Berwald. Tino nervously bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes becoming watery and glazed, but not from the smoke that was billowing from the torches...

"It is with great honor, that I may crown he who is the best warrior and provider for this village. Let it be known throughout the land, let it be shouted from the hills and valley's! This years Midsummer Warrior is..." The Blonde man smiled, turning his old and wise eyes over to the crowd of people. Everyone was hanging on to the blankets edges that made up their seats, mouths wide open, hands gripping into strangers palms, nails being bit with teeth, hair being pulled lightly from crushing fingers.

Tino shut his eyes tight and clenched his teeth. He placed his hands over his heart and did his best to not scream out into the maddeningly silent forest clearing.

_Oh please be Berwald, oh please be Berwald, oh please be Berwald!_

The old Germanic man blinked once, twice, three times before he bowed low to the ground and swerved his feet to the right, facing Berwald on bended knee.

Tino could visually see the Swede's eyes widening with fear and then realization, his muscles tightening, lungs doing their very best to draw enough air from the sweltering heat laden forest.

The bowed Germanic, a small and thin smirk lined on his face, extend his hands gracefully, before rising once again, his eyes subtly softer than before. Berwald could only stand their dumbly, his eyes as wide as the full moon, mouth parted with winded breath.

The old man raised his hands higher to the sky before producing a constructed crown of oak and dulled thorns from the side of his tunic. The long haired German then, with a smile on his lips, instructed with silent breath for Berwald to bend his head. He did so with a quick nodding movement, his breath becoming helplessly entranced.

The, with a slow twist and pull of his fingers, the man placed the crown onto the Swede's flaxen hair and stepped back, his hands still raised. His gaze caught the attention of the wide and silent eyed audience as their lungs were deprived of air, their mouths flickered into wide and adoring smiles.

Tino could hardly believe it. Berwald had won! Berwald had been crowned the best warrior for this Midsummer's bonfire! Tino allowed himself to take deep breaths and relax himself as he sunk his strained knees into the grass and blankets, his heart beat slowly steadying, his eyes gazing over at the Swede with unfettered love.

"I declare, that this years best provider for the village, is Berwald Oxenstierna! May the Gods shine upon you with as much glory as the warming sun!" The Germanic man called out with might. Berwald, still stunned, nodded to the elder man. He then, with bated breath, flicked his gaze to a grinning little Finn, Berwald's own lips twitching into a pleased and happy smile. He had done it. He had proved his worth to his bride, to his wife. Now, all he had to do was reap the reward of such an honor. And he was more than willing to do just that.

"Whichever Maiden catches your eyes tonight at the bonfire is a very lucky girl..." The Germanic man whispered to Berwald, the man's green eyes glinting over to a certain Finn with a knowing smile. Berwald blushed a bright coal red before nodding, clearing his throat.

"And now, with such an honor, we hand the torch of lights, the torch of Kenaz to the young warrior. Light the Bonfire as you will."* The Germanic man nodded to Berwald and quickly, a young man with thick bushy eyebrows and emerald green eyes strode into the clearing, his fists wrapped around the hull and stem of a golden decorated torch, the edges of the torch licking up at small switches of pine and ceder, the smoke a smoldering gray. The man, who Berwald recognized as the priest of the village, Arthur Kirkland, handed the torch to the tall bumbling Swede, the British man's gaze flickering over to Berwald, as if seeing if he really was worth enough to hold such a fine and religious treasure—apparently he was, as the Brit let his hands go and bowed to the Swede before baking away, the other Warriors having long ago left the clearing, congratulating Berwald with a quick cuff to the shoulder or a smile.

Berwald, staring at the licking flames that bit against the golden rimmed torch, lightly turned behind to gaze at the massive pit that was rumored to be made from the cracked and frozen bodies of Trolls. The pit was filled to the brim with dried flowers, greenery to create smoke, and thick slabs of timber, all doused with ash from the previous bonfires. Berwald swallowed thickly and, feeling the prickly crown above his head tussle his hair, he extended his arms downward and placed the hungry flame underneath a billow of straw.

All the sudden a great heat flashed and the bundle of hay caught fire like lightning! The cords of dried flowers were smothered ablaze and began to smoke and sizzles, the ropes of greenery began to uncoil an unwrap themselves to glow a great and shouting red before they turned to black and crumbled to ash on the slates of popping and grating wood, the sap boiling like blood from their burnt wounds. Berwald, blinking fiercely, stepped back with quivering step and watched as the flames began to grow, began to feed on the offered wood and limbs, began to hiss and crackle as if it truly was alive. It was the magic of Midsummer, Berwald was sure. Either that or the spirits were playing a trick on his eyes.

Berwald turned back to look at the audience, who had by now all stood up, their hands raised, shouts and whoops of joy stringing from their mouths as if they were all singing a unison prayer, a mantra of joy. Berwald couldn't help but try to take in enough air as he felt the fire on his back whistle and crackle, as he saw the eyes of hundreds on him. But, only one pair of eyes mattered, and that was his beloved little wife.

Tino was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes glazed and wide, hands clasped to his heart as he breathed out a happy sigh of relief. Berwald had done it, he had started the festivities perfectly!

But before Tino could think much back on it, another man, just as old as the Germanic man, walked up to the clearing to clap his hands around Berwald's shoulders in a friendly gesture, his hands lightly taking the torch from Berwald. The man had a curly mop of chestnut colored hair, his jowls scuffed with facial hair, his eyes a mischievous gleam. Tino instantly recognized him as Feliciano's and Lovino's strong and fickle witted grandfather.

"My boy, each and every one of us thank you for your hard work and efforts, and they shall not go unrewarded..." The man chuckled. Everyone cheered brightly, even Tino, who stood up and made a loud whoop of a shout, his white teeth gleaming in the bright sunlight.

The man with the chestnut hair smiled with a glimmer of light in his amber eyes. Berwald, not very much liking all the gathered attention now, quietly did his best to smile—which only ended up in him glaring even more.

The old man who people called 'Pappa Rome', simply smiled and either ignored the glare, or didn't really care. Either way, he took Berwald's hand and grasped it back against the brilliant torch, the man's paw-ish hands feeling the now warming metal of the torches body. All around him people were still cheering, some raising their glasses of mead or husks of boned meat, some throwing flowers upon the clearing, others whistling high and shrill songs, imitating the sound of a bird.

"You must keep this near you at all times, it will bring you much love and luck this night, when the veil between the sun is at it's highest! Feast near the torch, dance with the torch, let it's gleam light the face of the virgin bride you will lay with..." The Roman made a not-so-subtle wink to the blushing Swede, nudging Berwald against his chest playfully. Berwald grunted into his fist and shied his eyes away, looking down at the now flower scattered floor.

The old Roman gazed at the torch once more with a sort of reverence before he winked at Berwald again, his happy and carefree smile upon his chapped lips once again.

"May the day of the sun and the potency of Venus shine upon you and your Midsummer Bride this Litha!"* The cheery old man roared, his hands squeezing Berwald's shoulder blade. Berwald, edging away from the man, nodded simply and a bit nervously. His hands still gripped the hungrily licking torch, the flames glowing as bright as Idun's youthful golden apples themselves.*

"Now! Let us all grow fat and joyful with pride and mirth as our eyes feasts themselves on the Warriors Dance!" The man bellowed loudly over the masses of people who were squishing themselves to merge closer into the warriors dance.

Suddenly a chorus of yips and what sounded like animal howls droned through the sun streaked copes, the bawling bonfire growling with hunger as it demanded more wood, more hay, more offerings of dance and song.

The Woman let out an especially loud whoop and tossed their skirts up, unclasping their hair from their bone hairpieces, letting their spiraling locks sway around them. Tino himself rose from his meadow grass seat and began to shout with glee along with a squealing Feliks and a glee filled eyes Nikolas. All three boys took a bit bought of the stifling warm air as the men from the hunting party looked up from their seats of the pine bough benches that they had moved on to, not wanting to intrude on Berwald's unwanted spotlight—well, all except perhaps Mathias, who was still grumbling and mumbled that _he_ should have been the one to win such an important and wonderful honor.

"Great, now I gotta work _twice_ as hard to get into Norge's pants!" The Dane hissed under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. The other men around him just shook their heads and made a small little laugh under their breath, but it was when they were met with a solid and chipper pair of eyes on them, did they perk up to notice that Pappa Rome was smiling at them, his astonishingly white grin sparkling in the golden glow from the fire.

But, with a quick flick of his wrist, his military aura set about him and he stood over the men, his crimson red tunic flowing in the breeze, decorations of gilded gold armor clicking in place along the mans olive tanned skin. The hunting party stared up in awe.

The Old Roman who was known for his easy going speech and tricky eyes, simple smiled down at them before turning to young Swede. Pappa Rome winked to him again raised his hands up so that, if he stood a few feet away, his hands would engulf the entire line of soldiers as they sat nervously huddled together.

"It is time for you to demonstrate your feat as men! Dance along the God's light, enchant your summer bride with your wit, your cunning, your strength—and most importantly..." The Roman made a sneaky smile dip onto his features as he clutched his middle half, "...What's below your belt!" He roared with glee, his smile stinging against his illicit smile. All the men looked to the ground and blushed or grinned confidently.

A swoop of giggles and whispered laugh's floated above the green as the virgin maidens covered their blushing faces and tittered with humor and a bit of embarrassment. Even Tino grew red in his cheeks, remembering just how big Berwald had been.

_If he chooses me tonight...Then... Well... We will make love and...and_ Tino thought with embarrassment before he shut his eyes tight and bit his lip. Oh he couldn't even bare to think it! Berwald was such a specimen of man, he would surely break Tino in two! Tino made a scared sound in the back of his throat before willing himself to calm down. Berwald was sweet and kind, he would let Tino take his time, let him get adjusted to such a..._girth_...

"Oh!" Tino bit out with nervousness, Feliks leaning closer to him, bending his head so that his crown of flowers slipped along his golden wheat hair, making the soft locks glimmer.

"What's like, wrong? If you keep squeezing your eyes shut like that you're going to ruin your makeup!" The Polish man hissed, gesturing to Tino's powdered and drawn on face. The Finn, forgetting he even had makeup on, laughed softly and nervously before he nodded, smoothing his hands over his skirt that was now becoming too hot for him. _Oh to just get some air..._ He thought desperately.

"Listen, I know what you're worried about. But like, Berwald's a good guy! A big guy, but like, a good guy none the less! I don't think you'll have a problem tonight..." The Pink painted man giggled, clutching his friends hand in his.

Nikolas came to join the two, placing his hand over the two blushing boys.

"Just remember to breath, there will be pain, I'm sure. But hopefully your husbands will treat you gently..." Nikolas looked over to a grinning Dane who was crouching by the fire, getting ready to pounce into a dance, his eyes lingering on Nikolas for a brief second before he licked his lips deliberately, with a slow movement. Nikolas growled. "I know I will not be as fortunate to have found a 'gentle' lover..." The Norwegian bit out bitterly before turning to his two friends, making sure that Björt was being well taken care of by the snow white puppy. All of the maidens that were going to perform in the maidens dance had edged around the circular clearing, every spot on the earth taken by the light caresses of skirts and hair braided by flowers. It was the woman's job to test the man's strengths, to see if they really were worthy of caressing them under the stars or in the safety of a warm bed for two.

Tino, Nikolas and Feliks, along with a few other of their male and female friends were crowding around each other, trying to catch a glimpse of their preferred male.

"Now come on, we must watch, the dance is about to start." Nikolas whispered with a quick hiss of air, his eyes returning to the crouched hunting party who were either grinning in the nervous light of the flames, or glancing around worriedly with nervousness. Berwald was one of those men.

Already sweat the pouring down the man's skin, his crown of oak having one Hel of a time staying on his shaking head, his painted muscles strained as he knelt to the earth. The man took a deep breath before be gazed at the tan dirt. Already the flowers had been groomed from the clearing by pine-like brooms, ensuring that no man would stumble or loose his balance save from his own clumsiness.

A few women, a bristly yet beautiful young girl with long blonde hair named Natayla, and her large breasted teary eyed sister Katyusha had entered the circle with a heap of skins from an array animals, pelts and horns, feathers and tails. All the men gazed on expectantly. Then with a quick and hurried motion, the two unwed women carefully navigated among the crouching men, placing on an animal skin onto their back, to help give them strength and skill during their dance.*

Natayla had draped the pelt of a brick red fox onto Toris's back, mumbling bitterly that he could tie his own damn cloak around his shoulders. So, with a nervous smile, the brunette did as he was told and snagged the animal hide round his shoulders, tying it down with twine. The Foxes tail had small edges of string that were tied to the bark and cones of cinnamon sticks, the smell biting into the air. * Toris sighed and only hoped the animals tail between his legs wouldn't throw him off balance... The last thing he needed was a mouth full of dirt.

Next Antonio was graced with the thick and weighty hide of a bull, the bristly fur a dull metallic black that shook with ash and dust when he moved. The edges of the hide were sewn and clipped with small brass bells that jingled like chimes. The Spaniard smiled and fitted a cap of horns onto his curly coated hair, making him look fierce and dangerous even when he lazily smiled.

After that Katyusha came around to Gilbert and, staying a good ways away from the lecherous man, handed him the waxed and jointed cape in the shape of an Eagle's wingspan, the birds soft feathers sliding down the robe, each feather dolloped with a sprig of bright red or yellow paint that shone brightly against the now glistening bonfire flames. The Prussian man cackled low in his throat and flapped his arms, muttering something about a 'Gilbird'.

Next to receive a skin was Ludwig, the bent German stoney eyed and cold as ever. Natayla padded over to him and threw the thick and coarse fur of a gray wolf upon his shoulders, the blonde taking it upon himself to tie the beasts haunches around his body securely. The wolves teeth had been saved and were punctured into a leather throng, the strip being fastened around Ludwig's neck as intimidating gesture, and my did it work. The tall and muscular German looked like he was about to bite someones head off with his bare teeth—only Feliciano seemed to see past that and instead giggled, muttering how Ludwig looked like a cute doggy.

Katyusha had then trotted over to Mathias and slipped the pelt of a tan dusted Coyote upon his back, the animals fur soft to the touch. The Dane grinned and quickly tied the hide over his body, mindful of the little ropes of bright red cloth that were tied at the canines feet and front paws, creating a flashy show of color that Mathias liked so much.

Last but not least, Berwald was approached by Katyusha and Natayla. The two sisters made a small bow of their heads, the Ukrainian's eyes sparkling with joy, yet her sisters eyes were venomously cold. Berwald swallowed thickly.

Still on bended knee, the Swedish warrior was draped with the thick and heavy hide of a full grown black bear, the animal's legs dangling on either side of the Swede. The cuff of fur swirled around his bare chest and made it hard to breath, but soon the woman straightened out the pelt and handed Berwald the gold encrusted torch that he had left by the Bonfire. Berwald took the flame willingly, watching as the women nodded their heads against before they fluttered off stage to watch the show.

The drummers, harper's, fiddler and pipers had all been placed behind the men to the side, their hands posed over the instruments, waiting for the signal, their eyes trained on the men, their lips not even parting to breath.

This was it. This was the moment, the last challenge for Berwald to perform to prove himself worthy, to prove himself wanted by the Finn's affections. He had to snag a bride, he had to call attention to himself away from all the others. Well, perhaps wearing the skin of a dead bear and being painted up like some demon would do just _dandy._ Berwald thought bitterly.

Since he was the honored warrior he must first start the dance, he must be the first to raise his voice in a low growl, a grunt or a howl. It must be something intimidating, something that would be emitted from an animals throat. For that's what they were tonight, for this short space of time, they were vicious beasts. What they were about to do, were about to command, was like a deadly mating ritual of wild creatures, if one man should fall out of step, or should be shied away from a potential mate—well then, he would be sleeping alone tonight. Berwald did not want to be one of those men.

So, with a big bought of air and a quivering twang of courage in his heart, the bearish man waited, his eyes trained on a single patch of earth, his legs bent like a bow, his bare feet not even daring to skid themselves over the dusty ground. The weight of the bears skin weighed heavily on him, but he knew he would still be able to dance, still be able to growl and gnash his teeth together. He had to, he had to prove himself strong and cunning if he wanted to win a bride.

Berwald shifted his gaze till he could see out of the corner of his sea green eye, the other men, their backs bowed, sweat dripping from their faces as if they had stayed in that position for a good fortnight.

They were all nervous, all afraid that their work would be put to vain, that their dearest one that they kept in their heart would not approach them. But, if the Gods were really watching, Berwald only hoped that they would hear his heated prayer.

"Please, gr'nt m' T'no as m' w'fe..." he begged, his breath scattering away a few flecks of dust. The Swede sighed and closed his eyes, awaiting the course of the drums to lead his steps and body.

Then—it happened. It was a slow slither, a drawled out pick of a harp, only not. It was twangy and vibrating and it made all the hunters ears perk up, their gaze pricking into the sight of Arthur, his eyes trained onto a lute like instrument, the strings being tickled. Then soon the fiddle began to grow, the chestnut haired Austrian's fingers guiding the instrument with ease. Next came the piper, a small boy named Peter that Berwald had grown found of—had even considering adopting him once he wedded Tino (hopefully) since the boy had no real kin of his own save Alfred—and the man was not too keen on raising him.

Next it was the harpist, the Hungarian woman, wife to the Austrian, whose gentle yet strong fingers plucked and strummed the wide branched out curved harp, her eyes lingering onto Berwald, giving him a small smile for good luck. The Swede smiled softly back before returning his gaze to the ground. Breathe, just breathe, remember violet eyes. Violet eyes and smooth milky skin, soft dove winged hair, his sweet fluttering voice... Berwald murmured in his head, trying to clear his mind of everything but the beautiful face of the Finn. His soon to be wife.

But soon Berwald's calming thoughts were shattered. For, just as the song had breathed a sweet melody almost like chimes, the sound came to a thundering turn as the drummer, a young dutch man with a scar above his head, began to beat his palm along the deer hide tuned drum, the noise making a pounding vibration that bounced off of Berwald's skull, stunning the giant. It was only when he looked back up to see that every eyes was on him. Berwald froze.

Immediately the men behind him began to shiver alive, their legs straining back and forth, as if they were twangy legged beasts, jaws slacked, teeth glinting, eyes dangerously wide and showing white. Then they began to take large gasps of breath and linger around the clearing, like hungry wolves, for they knew that's how they had to act. They had to circle their bride, capture her eyes lest she be stolen by the jaws of another male. If that happened, well, then, they would fight for their fair maidens hand.

Suddenly the crisp voice of the Hungarian spoke, her words clear and slow, heated and vibrant.

"Find a bride on this warm Midsummer's night. By the fated number seven pick a flower under yer neck, let not your lust bite..." The woman paused, her eyes flickering to Berwald and only to Berwald. The Swede, stiff and nervous, let out a deep breath before he allowed his body to shudder awake, his eyes scanning the crowd, finding quiet easily the gaze of the violet Finn, staring right in front of him.

Tino was perfect, even with white, black, and blue paint speckled all over his face. The Finn's lips were plump, his chest a beautiful milky white, his ears tinted crimson, face mixing in with the white powder to create a pink velvety blush. Berwald, his stare burning into Tino, took a step forward, his heart shaking awake.

"Sway her hips, enchant her breath, muddle her eyes and make her forfeit..." The Hungarian sang again, her voice like the gentle twinkling of the stars.

Berwald stood to his full height before crouching downward again with the other males, his body surging forward slowly, like a stalking bear, his teeth combing over his lips to bite at the air. Every eye was watching him, seeing who the brave and great warrior Swede would choose for his bed tonight.

"Pick your bride like a summer flower, let your heart be filled with unrelenting desirous power." She sang, her voice riveting under her breath, shaking almost.

Berwald quickened his footsteps, his legs moving with the fastness of the fiddle, with the gracefulness of the harp, with the joys of the pipe and the hunger of the drum. Round and round he went, the other warriors following after him as if they were on the hunt, as if they were searching for something. Yet it was not meat, blood, nor flesh that they meant to rip to shreds and consume—no, it was a maidens virgin touch that they all wanted upon their bodies, and they were just about ready to howl for it.

But not a breath nor a whisper escaped any man's lips, no, they had to wait for the giant Swede to call out. To yell, to scream, to bellow and shout, to cry to growl, to grunt. They had to wait for the honored warrior, the best out of them all to make their first move, their first pick. Then, it was time for them to feast as well.

They all danced like ravenous animals, stomachs crouching to the ground till their grins flashed wild and they sat up to their feet with a movement so quick it would put a leaping deer to shame. The animal pelts on their bodies swayed and dragged against the foot printed floor, the smell of dried flowers, heat, flesh all swarmed around them and made their nostrils flare. They all licked their lips hungrily and stalked around the burning fires, feeling like cadged lions.

Then, as Berwald's body was hugging the wall of flames, his gaze caught a flash of violet, a flash of eyes that shot through his heart and made his footing reel back, almost backing up into the crouched figure of Mathias who was licking his lips like a starved Coyote, begging to be fed.

Berwald shifted his legs forward again, careful not to fall, and strode over on all fours to the front of the clearing, feeling a bit ridiculous right about now. But he had a job to do, he had to find his bride and make it be known that the maiden was his, if anyone else touched her—well, lets just say that man was in for a world of hurt.

So, still on all fours, the man, the bonfires blazing at his back, his fellow hunters pining an drooling, clawing their hands into the earth as if they truly did believe they were animals, that they were like the famous Berserk's, famed for their strength and cruelty.*

No. It was not the feat of strength nor cruelty that rode through them like a violent wind, it was the promise of sweet smooth flesh underneath them, that called and growled and bit into their hearts and coiling stomachs, so Berwald, feeling that enough torture had past into the silent crackling of the fire and the sounds of the musicians, drew his fingers back from the earth to stand up to his full towering height, like a bear standing on it's hind legs, powerful and strong.

Berwald swarmed his gaze over the mystified people, their mouths open, eyes wide, like the moon on a winter night.

All the maidens that were swarmed at Berwald's feel giggled and blushed, pressing themselves closer to the man's feet. Berwald stepped away, the women cooed and frowned out with stubbornness. Berwald paid them no heed, instead he made his way to stand by the front of the clearing, his eyes smoldering into the orbs of a certain Finn. A certain Finn who was gasping for breath, who couldn't belive how much of a man the Swede looked before him, his muscles powerfully taut, his skin rolling with sweat, the contours of his hips creating shadows from the gleaming of the fire... And those eyes. Those river stone eyes that burned into Tino's very soul and made his toes curl and his breath stop in his throat.

Tino gave out a shuddering gasp before he desperately tried to control himself, his gaze never leaving the Swede's for a second.

"The man who is strong, the man whose eyes are wise and whose heart is aflame like a candles wick, shall find true love here at the bonfires, by his flowers pick..." The lingering voice of the Hungarian sang, her gaze never leaving the two Nordic men who looked to be in their own time span, their own little world where nothing else mattered but themselves, but the way they looked at each other, saw each other, _loved_ each other.

Berwald took a deep breath before he reach out his hands, fingers shaking. He reached out by the light of the growing and screaming flames, by the lingering looks of the hunters and the fixed eyes of the villagers. He reached out with confidence, with clarity, with power and strength—he reached out with love.

And with that reach, his fingers light brushed against the perfect and soft face of Tino, the Finn's breath catching in his throat.

Everyone gasped with the Finn, their eyes widening, their minds not understanding it. Why would the Swede not chose a woman, a long haired maiden with pretty eyes and round full breasts and a skinny waist? Why the man—why such a scrawny looking boy?

But Berwald didn't care if they didn't understand it. They didn't have to, only Tino and him had to understand it and they did. It was as if it was written upon their hearts with glimmering gold. They understood it because they knew what it was. It was love.

Berwald cupped the Finn's face in his hands and the Finn didn't pull back, didn't shy or mumbled or scream with fright. No, the blonde Finnish man sighed into the touch and allowed the Swedish warrior to pull him up, to press him to his arms and to caress his heart to his.

The, the Swede, pulling back slightly, gazed into the Finn's eyes before giving him a slow, long and lingering kiss that played against the Finn's lips so sweetly, leaving him reeling in his step for air. But Berwald caught him and pressed him to his chest once again. Tino smiled sheepishly and wrapped his arms around the Swede's powerful body.

Then, with his sea green eyes thrown up to the sky, thrown up to the moon—Berwald opened his mouth and made an earth shuddering growl that could match the sound from mighty bear himself.

The sound was made, the flowers pick was chosen, the Swede had chosen his bride.

Suddenly a bellow of cackles, growls, howls, grumbles and caws erupted behind the Swede as the other hunting party screamed from the top of their lungs with joy, their eyes wild, mouths open to reveal sharp teeth. Berwald, baring his own snarl, glared at the men who were advancing near the Swede and the Finn, Mathias especially being bold by pretending to nip at Berwald's hands like a tricky Coyote.

The Bearish man let out a low growl of warning before he set the Finn back down onto the ground, his face a bright red, a wide smile on his lips, his head still cloudy from the kiss.

Mathias howled low in his throat and licked his lips before sliding next to Berwald, the Swede, pressing the lit torch in the Danes way, backed up to the right, leaving the man to go to his hunting.

At the given steps of movement from the Swede, the Dane lunged at his prize.

His hands screwed themselves into Nikolas's shoulders as gently as they could before the Dane grinned wildly, his eyes as bright as the sun.

The Norwegian only had a few seconds to react before the Dane viciously pressed his lips to Nikolas's in a claiming kiss that made the Norseman clench his fingers into the hide of the Coyote pelt for balance.

Once the Dane, gasping for breath, released the Norwegian, Nikolas panted wildly, clutching his hand to his heart. But he didn't pull away, didn't smack the forceful man on his cheek and storm away. All he did was look at Mathias with a weighty stare, his mouth parted, eyes hazy before he, grabbing his composure, nodded and turned his head the other way, his cheeks roasting into a bright red.

Mathias, his eyes widening, cackled and threw his head back into a victorious howl, hearing behind him the other shouts and cry's of the hunting party as they too, feasted upon their victory at choosing their bride.

It seems that everyone had chosen a male bride, to the surprise of the village onlookers. Ludwig had wooed Feliciano into a stupor of 'Ve~ Ti Amo~ Ve~'. Toris had, before even saying one word to the giddy Polish man, had been pulled by his arm on to of the giggling blonde before being kissed heatedly by Feliks. Afterwords it was the Lithuania himself who took the initiative and began the kissing to Feliks girlish delight. Antonio, after having much trouble from the angry Italian, had convinced Lovino that he did actually 'kinda-sorta-did-wanna-be-the tomato-bastards-bride-even-though-his-smile-was-stupid-and-crap. Gilbert, after realizing that Rodrich the Austrian and Elizabeta the Hungarian were married to each other, had a hard time convincing them to _both_ marry the Prussian. So, with still a glint in his eyes, he swooped down and caught the shy eyed son of Francis, who Gilbert still couldn't remember what his name was. But as long as the curly haired guy was good in bed, the Prussian was happy.

So, the hunters making their way back to the middle of the clearing, all gazed to the fire before letting a smile or a grin flit over their lips. Them with an upraised hand, Berwald' raised the torch and made one last grunted howl, the other men joining in a chorus of cries.

The Warriors dance, was complete.

…...

**Well, did ya guys like the Warrior Dance? I hope so, because next comes the Maidens dance hee hee!**

**Authors Notes: **

-Or his height, as tall as the sacred Ash tree that looms over the forest with pride.* **-An 'Ash' Tree was the scared Tree in Norse Mythology. **

-With sight, sound, taste, and touch. It was all burning and sparking into a madden dash of heat and something more tangible—lust.*-**-I probably explained this already, but during this festival (I celebrate the British/Roman version of 'Litha') the Midsummer bonfires was a time for couples to go into the forest and fornicate under the stars—that's why during pagan times a lot of children were born In March, a perfect and sacred month for childbirths. **

-"These men that you all see before you—they are the villages best warriors. Each man poses a great power, a great ability that has granted them the honor to stand before Ymir's broken bones and flesh, to stand before the vulnerable and unlit flame of the Sun."* **-In Norse mythology, and in parts of ****Germanic text since the two were actually quiet similar with myths and Gods, the creation myth is that Odin and his brothers killed the Frost Giant Ymir who created all the giants in the land. After they killed him they took his skull and raised it to form the sky, his brains became clouds and his broken bones and teeth became rocks and his skin and hair became trees and plants. Cool, huh?**

-"But..." the Germanic man's voice grew low, like the suns soft retreat behind the hills once night has fallen. Yet night would not make such a victory tonight, oh no. It was the suns time to reign, for the essence of the God to take a hold of the fires of day and feast from the joys of light.***-The Sun was an important thing in every culture. In Norse Mythology the Sun was not a God, but the daughter of Mundilfari who boasted that she was more beautiful then every light in the world, so Odin plucked her and put her in the sky to guide the dawn chariots. In British lore and Wiccan religion, the sun is the main God, the horned God and is seen as a deity. **

-"And now, with such an honor, we hand the torch of lights, the torch of Kenaz to the young warrior. Light the Bonfire as you will."***-'Kenaz' is a rune that represents fire and torches and the power of creativity. **

-"May the day of the sun and the potency of Venus shine upon you and your Midsummer Bride this Litha!"***- 'Venus' was the Roman Goddess of love and Sexuality. 'Litha' is the Roman equivalent to Midsummer and is still celebrated by fellow pagans every summer, including by me~~!**

-His hands still gripped the hungrily licking torch, the flames glowing as bright as Idun's youthful golden apples themselves.* **-Idun was a Norse Goddess who had golden apples of youth to keep the Gods youthful and handsome. **

-Then with a quick and hurried motion, the two unwed women carefully navigated among the crouching men, placing on an animal skin onto their back, to help give them strength and skill during their dance.* **-Many cultures, including the Norse, felt that if you wore an animals skin during a certain event, that animal would loan you it's powers. Kind of like shape shifters. **

-The Foxes tail had small edges of string that were tied to the bark and cones of cinnamon sticks, the smell biting into the air. ***-Cinnamon is an herb connected with love and lust.**

-So, still on all fours, the man, the bonfires blazing at his back, his fellow hunters pining an drooling, clawing their hands into the earth as if they truly did believe they were animals, that they were like the famous Berserk's, famed for their strength and cruelty.***- 'Berserk's' were a real band of Norse warriors. There name is derived from the word 'berserk' because they were unstoppable and uncontrollable during fighting. They were like paid mercenaries who wore the skins of bears and wolves and ate mystic mushrooms and herbs to make them fight fiercely. They would rape, steal, and kill until the battle was over. **


	11. Flowers Pick

**Shit guys thanks for all the many reviews! Thank you especially to a particular critique that I will admit—angered me slightly—but made me realize that...Yeah. This story really doesn't have that great of a plot...(But it still sure is entertaining from the looks of all these reviews!) So, as many of you guessed, this story will be coming to an end fairly soon, but do not fret! I will do my best to make the ending to your liking, you lovely readers! REVIEW OR ELSE THE DOLPHINS WILL CUT OFF MAH TOES! Thank you to **MalinChan**, **yotzie** and **Ruusu **for being my awesome Swedish/Finnish translators! Much love to you beautiful Scandinavian's! **

…...

After that stunning and a bit frightening performance, the hunting party, fit with howls and growls, were staring fiercely at the bonfire that was hungrily licking at the offered limbs of wood. By now the flames were like a torrent of knives raking against the gray and smoky boulders. The sounds of popping and boiling sap could be heard from the slabs of pine bows, only heightening the bonfires potency and fearful cackling noise.

But before the men could stare into the flames for much longer, they were suddenly called to attention by a female voice. The brunette Hungarian who was smiling brightly for some unknown reason quickly pushed the men to the left, letting them exit the clearing with grumbling protests, their bodies still twitching with excitement, grins not leaving their face. They feet shuffled with irritation as they made their way to the other seated spectators. The woman's pleated olive green skirt swayed against her hips as she once again shooed the males and their newly picked brides from the now dusty clearing of dirt and rock.

Abandoning her harp, she sat the instrument down to the left near the other waiting musicians who began to bend and twist their backs like willows by a stream, being pushed and pulled by the rivers steady gliding.

Slowly but surely all the men in the hunting party were marched off of the foot printed earth to find their seats at the front of the glen, their bent and bowed legs creaking with tuned excitement as they sat themselves down, licking their lips.

Berwald was the last to find his seat. He perched himself dead center into the row of men, their leering gazes growing more intently as Elizabeta, with a wink in her eye, swept her hands in front of her skirt, as if she was smoothing it down. She scurried over to the middle of the clearing, the bonfires hungry crackling behind her. Then, with a whispered word, another woman with ringlets of raven black hair and a pale delicate oriental face smoothy and daintily walked into the dusty clearing.

Her pink and golden silk dress blew with the warm hum of the wind as she stood next to Elizabeta, a flower also pinned to her hair with painstakingly gentle care. Cradled in her delicate grasp was a basket that was balanced on her pink clothed hip, her sunken gaze like that of a critical sparrow as she gazed across the crowd.

To Berwald's surprise, inside the basket was a flurry of color. Dollops of flowers, ranging in all sizes and colors fluttered silently in the low lipped basket, making Berwald's eyes twitch with confusion at the basket filled with greenery and blossoms.

Then, Elizabeta's smile never leaving her perfectly plump lips, flicked her wrist up and moved her fingers to and fro in a beckoning motion that left the few men sitting around the clearing puzzled.

All of a sudden in a mad dash that left some of the girls dizzy, the maidens that were clustered near the front row sat up with a rustling of skirts and a brandishing of bells, their feet tucking underneath them. There eyes caught the hidden signal from the Hungarian woman and they quickly stood up as delicately as swans. Like graceful flower stems, each one was tall and proud. Most of the females and few males faces were flushed pink including Tino's. The little Finn just could not quit his fidgeting as the row of females multiplied till there was a good bought of twenty unwed men and women all together that the Finn would have to compete with for Berwald's affections.

But, with a few flecks of confidence that wedged themselves in his heart, the Finn couldn't help but smile quite smugly. Berwald had already picked him, had already chosen him like a fair and beautiful Midsummer's flower. Now all he had to do was sway his hips a bit, flash a charming smile, and hopefully the Swede would fall head over feet for him. Hopefully...

But before Tino's maddening thoughts could progress into further worry or scheming, the Finnish man was nudged in his sides harshly by an elbow. Tino whirled his head to the left to see Nikolas, his eyes cold and neutral if not a bit nervous. The Norwegian man, with a low hiss of his breath grabbed Tino's attention.

"Tino, it's time to move! Stop standing their like a sun-struck Troll!" Nikolas urged with warning, his own steps already quickening as the mass of women and few men began to slink to the clearings edge, their skirts trailing behind them like dried flower petals. Tino bit his lip nervously as his eyes gazed out in front of him, the flushed trail of long haired and big breasted women skipping in front of him, their eyes glassy like freshly polished river stones. Tino glared at them with jealously.

Should any one of those big eyed strumpets try to go near _his_ man-! Well, let's just say they'd lose more than a few clumps of golden braided hair. Feeling a surge and defiance that was added with a few flecks of courage, the Finn picked up his feet, wedging himself between Feliks and Nikolas who were beginning to sweat with nervousness as well as the the added heat from the growling bonfire at their backs.

Cautiously they joined themselves on either side of Elizabeta her smile never waning, as bright as the red sun that gleamed above them. She brought her hands up in front of her to sway them in the air, mimicking the greeting that the old Germanic man had given the villagers.

With a wink of her eye everyone smiled and shouted, whooping out howls and bellows of shouts. The hunting party especially raised their voices like a thundering waterfall, their eyes gleaming and sharp like a hawks, lips curved into grins. Tino didn't know if it was the warm air around them or the power of the sun that was making the men dizzy with lust but it was beginning to scare him. He only wanted one pair of eyes on him, one stoney glare that could make his toes curl and his breath gasp out with heat. He was for Berwald's eyes only...

But, he would have to bare with the humiliation of strutting around for a whole mass of people. He was not so easily flustered that he couldn't keep his mind on his task, no, but the added heat from the sun and the fire at his back made his head dizzy. His stomach was also growling painfully and he would give his own arm for a drop of water—but he knew he could eat after the dance, he could stuff his face and fill his belly with all the yummy treats that each heavy pine bough table had to offer.

He and Berwald would feast, would toast with horns of golden mead to their Summer mock wedding... Tino paused, deep in thought, ignoring the words of greeting that was falling from Elizabeta's mouth as she walked along the clearing, her skirt kicking up in the wind.

Mock wedding. As in, not real. Well that certinaly left a sore spot in the Finn's heart... After tonight, what would happen? After they laid together under the warming sky, the sun's spotless shine lighting their faces, the soft heather and grass as a bed... What would happen? Would the dream crumble? Would Tino wake up only to find his arms empty of his Swedish lover—Berwald having gone back to his normal life, to pursue a real family, a real wife... One that could bear him strapping young sons and give him a hearth in his home? Tino bit his lip and frowned.

He didn't want tonight just to be a simple rolling in the hay, both waking up embarrassed and shy, mumbling a whispered goodbye as they never talked to each other again, never shared a kind word, never shared a memory...

He wanted their relationship to last, to prosper like the burning sun at the peak of its power. He knew marriages of this kind never lasted. A man simply could not wed another man—lest he had an heir to keep his name going...

Tino was sure the Swedish giant would want a son, would want a nice life with his loving wife. He knew Berwald loved him, he knew he would treat him gently tonight, would probably make a promise that he would always love Tino...

But where would that promise get the Finn. He didn't want to go back to the way things were, when they barely spoke, barely bumped into each other or even gazed at one another, for fear of loving too deep. For fear that the potency of Midsummer, of it's magic, would slowly drip away from their hearts.

Tino sighed as he watched the black haired Taiwanese girl sway her way to Elizabeta, her dainty arms laden with a basket of blossoms of every color and size, their perfume making Tino's head spin and reel.

He would have to tell the Swede what he felt, what he really wanted. A night of passion and lust was nice, yes, but if it was just the love making that mattered—well. Tino wanted more. He wanted the Swedes arms wrapped around his waist, he wanted a small cottage of his own, he wanted a son playing with their white little dog, and most importantly he wanted a wedding band on his finger.

Feeling his heart weighing with something thick and solid, Tino bit the inside of his cheek, begging himself to gain the courage to tell the Swede that he loved him and wanted more than one night of his love. He wanted to marry Berwald. He could only pray to the Gods that his thoughts would reach them...

While Tino was thinking such serious and heart weighing thoughts, he felt Nikolas shift next to him, the Norwegian pinking the skin between Tino's thumb, making the Finn pout and hiss with annoying pain.

"_What_?" Tino whispered out harshly, his gaze flickering to Nikolas, his eyes irritable. Nikolas' eyes remained neutral, but his voice clipped back, his words biting Tino in the ear.

"If you keep _daydreaming _you are going to miss the instructions of the dance!" Nikolas scolded Tino, Felik's himself giggling because of Tino's furrowed brows. Tino bit his lip, his pout not dissolving fro his face as he glared at his cousin, Nikolas rolling his eyes in annoyance before he returned his gaze to the Hungarian, Tino, begrudgingly, doing the same.

Much to Tino's surprise the brunette woman was giggling and talking to the villagers, her voice as sweet as honey, cheeks flushed.

"...I remember when I was a young maiden, standing on this very clearing, out-looking into a see of careful and watchful eyes... So I know when I say that this is not easy for our young gentlemen and ladies to press themselves to such strenuous lengths to obtain a summer husband! So please, do not grab at the ankles of the one you desire, do not pinch the flesh of the virgin that dances in front of you, only look with heated gaze. You may only touch your destined bride if-," Elizabeta stopped her voice to turn to the obsidian eyed woman that was holding the flowers to her hip. Elizabeta dug her thin fingers into the froth and foam of petals before she picked out a long green stem of an ox-eyed daisy, the white petals instantly making Tino remember his dream. "-your virgin Goddess gives you her chastity, like a delicate flower. Should you, young hunter, find yourselves with a flower clipped between your fingers from your loved one—then you are bound by the sun that drips before you to share in the great union of life."* Elizabeta's gaze flickered over to Berwald, her knowing eyes making him stiffen and blush. She smiled, a quick upturn of her lips before she spun quickly on her heel, turning behind her to greet the beautiful and fresh faces of the virgins that had amassed themselves around the bonfire like a great and knitted ring.

With a quick trot of her dainty feet, almost like a dance, she fluttered over to where Tino was standing and placed the glaring flower of the daisy into his hands, her fingers cupping his smoothly. Tino blinked back before he pressed the flower to his heart, the beautiful Taiwanese woman already passing out the other blooms and blossoms.

"This Maidens dance is called '_Flowers Pick_'!" Elizabeta called out again, her dress skirts swishing over the dust, a small little farm boy having already swiped the holes and tuffs of dirt smooth, like the surface of a glassy lake so that the fair maidens would not trip and fall upon their skirts.

"As I have said before—these beauties you see before your eyes must remain pure until the dance is complete..." Elizabeta's voice grew low with warning as her eyes flickered over to the hunting party, their backs bowed, hands grinding into the dirt like pawing bulls. Her eyes were especially trained on Mathias as the Dane gave out a wolfish grin that would put Fenrir's snapping jowls to shame.*

"...Sampling any of the petals of the flower before the dance is over will get you thrown in the stalks...Do you understand young Coyote?" Elizabeta narrowed her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips, glare bleeding through to Mathias.

The blonde only grinned wilder, his eyes shifting to Nikolas who scoffed with disgust.

"Aye Ma'am... I'll wait till after ta' slate my hunger..." He cackled, blowing a small kiss to the Norwegian who just wrapped his arms over his chest, turning his face away with a tight clenching of his jaw. Most of the waiting hunters simply laughed, their fingers craving the sensation of flesh, making them restless.

Elizabeta, seeing as how that was going to be the only promise for non disturbance during the dance from the Dane that she was going to get, nodded and turned back to the patiently waiting virgins, their hands all wringing in their pleated dresses and skirts.

Each woman and man was nervous—to say otherwise would be an outlandish lie. They all breathed in through their nose, smelling the smoky haze of the greenery as it burned with fever on the bonfire. They tasted the sun in their mouth, the dewy warmth that beaded against their skin, that made their dresses and skirts hot. They felt the sun peel at the paint decorated on their flesh, felt the burning hotness of the sand and dirt that was beneath their feet. They felt the strain in their hearts and it nearly made them cry out with agony. They felt the Maidens dance.

Elizabeta, feeling the restlessness of the women behind her, clapped her hands together, her smile never fading. She turned to the maidens who all had a flower tucked into their hand. Tino the glaring daisy, Nikolas the scrubby heather and Feliks the golden yarrow. She turned to them and raised her hands up to the sky, the clouds melting against the blue and gold of the fainted moon and the bright sun above.

She grinned up at the sky before throwing her hands down, making the spectators that were watching with eager eyes quip and howl with delight.

"Ladies of the purest heart..." She dropped her eyes to gaze at the row of fidgeting virgins behind her before she tossed her head to look at the men, especially the hunters party who were watching the bonfires flames with bright eyes.

"Hunters with lust so quick..." The men cackled and growled low in their throats, the bones underneath their bodies growing taunt underneath the muscles, aching to move. They all licked their lips.

"Welcome all—to the Flowers Pick!" She cried out with a bleated smile, her green eyes sparkling with anew mirth.

All around her the villagers erupted with smiles and shouts as the young and old watched with merry eyes at the women and men who would try to seduce a husband into their arms. They threw flowers into the air, enchanting the wind to the smell of biting sweetness. They stomped their feet on the ground, making the earth shudder and quake as if the rocking land beneath them would heave and pull apart with a molten growl. They raised their cups of golden mead, sloshing the liquid to the floor where the dogs hungrily lapped it up.

The cattle that had been doused with ash previously bawled and cried low in their throats, the cats mewled, the ravens cawed, the rooster crowed and the sheep bleated, the ponies whinnied and the dogs yipped. The air was filled to the brim with sound.

All of the maidens, at that heated cry from the beloved Hungarian woman, shuffled onto their feet, their hands balled into fists at their sides. They clutched at the long trails of their skirts and fluttered them around like hens ruffling their feathers. They tucked their flowers in the sashes at their waists, in their hair and in their boots. They kept the fragrant bud near to them, guarding it like their own virginity, parting with it only for the promise of a man's love.

The hunting party, there eyes hungry, began to holler and howl like wild beasts. They drummed their fists upon the poor flesh of the earth, they smacked their lips and shouted up to the sky. Berwald himself was beginning to grow nervous and edgy. His eyes began to scan the crowd that had pushed up to the edges of the clearing in hopes to win a fair maidens heart. Many men of all ages and sizes pressed their fingers to the scavenged earth, raking grass between their clutched hands.

Berwald frowned. He did not like the sight of all these leering men. Tino was his, no other man's eyes should fall with lust upon the Finn's body.

Berwald began to grow angry and flushed as he heard the deafening howls of the men, their eyes attentive, watching, trying to comb out the perfect beauty to hone the suns fertility.

It made him nervous and jealous, to think that other men's gazes would be fixed on his little bride! How dare they look upon Tino with such heated eyes?

But before Berwald could think much more on the anger that was welling up inside him, he heard the unmistakable sound of bells as the maidens hurried around the clearing, their brass belled feet creating a sound of music as they scuttled.

Soon Berwald's stoney stare was brought back to the delicate body of the Finn, Tino's face flushed, mixing in with the pale makeup that had been dredged on his blushing cheeks. The Finn had stood himself in the middle of Nikolas and Feliks, Elizabeta herself insisting that he be flush dead center in front of all the bachelor men that were looking for a bride.

The Finn bit his lip, trying desperately to find the heavy eyes of the Swede. He scanned his gaze over the crowds of onlookers, his eyes all but whirling till they laid on the sharp and stern glare of a stormy blue-green gaze. Tino immediately blinked, his lips curving into a smile as he met with Berwald's stoney eyes, the giant not too far from Tino. In fact, if Berwald pushed his way a bit from the crowd, he could practically touch the fringe from the Finn's dress.

Tino smiled down and him and shook his hips a little, making the bells from his feet jingle. Berwald's face instantly grew as red as a roosters crown, his eyes misting.

Tino, glad that he had caught the Swede's attention, blew a small kiss to him, a few of the men sitting around the bearish Swede chuckling and nudging him in the rib. Berwald could only do his best to cover his blushing face as well as he could, but to no avail.

But before Tino could tease the Swedish man any longer, he heard the plucking of a harp and the windings of a fiddle blare into the humming howls of the villagers. Immediately Tino and the rest of the maidens turned their heads sharply to see Elizabeta back at the harp, her fingers plucking madly. The Dutch man with the scar above his head puffed on his pipe before pounding his fists into the drums madly, the swirl of smoke clouding around him.

Arthur as well began to play his lute-like instrument with ease, his eyes concentrating on his work as his half-son Peter merrily began playing the pan pipes, his freckled smile never leaving his face. Tino smiled. He liked the little British boy well...Perhaps, if he had enough courage to ask Berwald to marry him, and the giant Swede said yes...Well, maybe they could adopt the young lad. Tino was sure Arthur wouldn't mind, the Druid was always complaining about the child anyway...*

But Tino's merry thoughts were broken as Nikolas, once again, elbowed him in the hip.

"_Ow_!" Tino hissed, rubbing his bare hip bone with his hands, glaring at Nikolas. The Norwegian simply rolled his eyes, informing for Tino to pay attention lest he wanted to be left in the dust by the other dancers. Tino, the inkling's of a glare still in his eyes, stuck his tongue out at his cousin before turning back to the swarmed mass of villagers.

Well. There certainly was a lot of them...Tino thought with nervousness as the music behind him began to grow louder, the heat from the flames all but licking his back hotly, making Tino stiffen.

He let out a sigh and begged himself to relax, to calm down. He was doing this for Berwald, he was doing this to prove that he wanted him as a Summer husband—and a real husband for that matter.

But Tino couldn't be bothered with that train of thought now, for suddenly the fiddle began to quip and wail and the Hunting party, hearing that shrill sound, howled with want, knowing the start of the 'Flowers Pick' was about to begin.

The fiddle raged on and Tino, swallowing a big drought of air, looked to his two companions who were smiling nervously. Well, Feliks was smiling, Nikolas looked like he was going to be sick. But they returned Tino's gaze just the same, their eyes wide and glassy with excitement and nervousness. Then it began.

Elizabeta paused in her harp playing to give a shrill yip in the air, sounding like a small little cat. All the other villagers eyes widened before they too took the cue—most of them screaming and howling like wolves, entreating the instruments to a more natural sound. The hunting party beat their fists mercilessly onto the dirt ground, their eyes never leaving the maidens that slowly began to sway to the music.

Slowly, with a bending of a shoulder, with the twist of a leg, the first maidens began to shake awake, like flowers blooming in spring after a harsh winter. They patted their feet onto the earth, shaking their ankles to create a clinking noise of bells that made all the people in the crowd smile with the familiar sound.

Tino too began to move to the shrill and inviting music, the chorus of the musicians voices joining into the sounds of warmth, speaking in twisted tongues that didn't make sense, Elizabeta and Arthur adding extra volume to the sounds with an animal sound or two.

It was very natural, very primitive, and it called to Tino's heart. The beating of the drum was his pounding blood. The hissing of the fiddle was his tentative steps. The harp was his voice as he joined the other maidens in making small yelp's of sound. The pipes were his breath as he tried to not fall down and faint, the heat at his back swelling against him. The lute was his body as it vibrated with a will of it's own.

Then, he was set free.

He no longer cared about the heat that growled at his back. He no longer cared about his hungry stomach that begged for nourishment. He no longer cared about his bare torso and his swinging hips. Because all that mattered right then and there, was a pair of steely river-stone eyes that were drinking him in.

So, with more bolder steps he joined the other women and men as they made their way around the fires, their steps skidding and sliding in the dirt. There bodies withered like flower petals to the sun and their eyes glowed like embers. Their mouths breathed hissing noises and cries of breath as there legs moved at impossible angles. There hips swayed and dipped, nudging against each other in a movement of friendly flesh as they huddled together like frighted deer, no one approaching a man yet—too afraid and too humbled by the flames to even think of anything else but the dance.

So, together they danced, like a great herd of a frightened and stalking animals, their courage growing as the flames hissed and bubbled and growled, smoke dancing over their body in a chocking but warm embrace.

Long flowering hair blew in the wind as the lengthy flesh of legs peeked out from stiffened skirts, a flurry of color that embraced every dancers hips and breasts. Curls of flowers and robes dragged along the dirt as the dancers moved faster and faster, some getting so dizzy that they leaned in against the other female dancers, to tired to continue. Without a sip of wine or a bit of bread in their stomachs they danced, like wistful fairies jumbled together with the jingles of sound and the smells of the smoke that curled and fluttered through their hair. They were all still timid, but slowly, barriers were broken as the harp plucked with mocking and the fiddle screeched like a great bellowing monster. Women began to clank rocks together to further the beat as a group of unwed men began to howl like fierce wolves—shaking some of the women with fear and nervous giggles.

But finally, just as Tino was rounding a corner of men, a bellow of noise was heard on the other side of the fire. Tino strained his neck upward to see a woman bending low to the ground, a wild rose in the hands of the man before her. Tino smiled as he watched the unknown man accept the flower, taking his bride by the hand as they disappeared into the forest.

But once again his attention was captured by other noises that bellowed and roared as more women and men began to break from the herd of dancers to thrust flowers into the hands of unwed men.

Tino bit his lip as he rounded the corner of the bonfire again, his eyes finding the golden bounding hair of Feliks as he too broke from the music of the Maidens to skip merrily over to Toris who was watching with nervous and heated eyes.

Tino gazed on and watched as the young Polish beauty shimmied over to the stunned Lithuanian, the pink paint on Felik's stomach wriggling on his body as if the swirls had a mind of their own.

Toris, hands painfully clasped in his lap, could only watch with opened mouth as Feliks, a giddy grin on his face, charmed his way over to his Midsummer husband. He swayed, he dipped, he giggled and he fluttered, and, before Toris was reduced to a pile of goo, Feliks bent down to his eye level, hand flicking to his hips before he produced a spring of golden yarrow that glinted with promised mischievous. Toris eyed it hungrily, his eyes that were usually so nervous settling into a calm and heated stare. Feliks threw his head back and laughed as he flicked the yarrow into the Lithuanian's lap, Toris grabbing at it awkwardly before staring back at Feliks who had, with a wink of his eye, gone back to dance along the fast running and skipping dancers.

Tino couldn't help but feel a bit envious of Felik's courage as he watched the haughty Polish man skip away with a swing in his step. Tino bit his lip and placed his hands out in front of him, doing his best to not slip on his skirts and fall flat on his face. He had to be graceful, he had to be seductive—he had to give Berwald his flower soon lest another maiden encroach on Tino's soon to be husband!

So, feet quick with determination, the Finn, leaping like a deer with the other woman, began to circle round and round with his steps, feeling quiet dizzy as his glassy violet eyes searched for the handsome and hardened glare of Berwald.

Tino felt his hair whip against his face as he danced faster and faster, his feet curling underneath him to keep up with him, Oh where was Berwald! No longer could the petite Finn find the glare of the man. Tino, feeling frustrated, picked up his step, his feet skidding into the dusty earth.

He just had to find him, he had too! If not...well then... Tino bit his lip. No, Berwald would not accept another woman's flower. The Swede loved him and him alone. It was utterly foolish for Tino to think otherwise!

So, with a bit more bounce in his heart, the Finn stiffly twirled around the flames that raced against his back. He could feel his pulse in his throat as it beat wildly. He could feel his feet ache and his eyes flutter as the smoke blew against his violet gaze.

He coughed quietly to himself as a spew of dust ranged from his vision from the eccentric stomping of a young girl with black hair and beautiful red pigtails. The girl's eyes shone a bright black as she danced on, paying Tino no heed as she sought out the hand of her preferred male.

As long as she does not seek Berwald for her bed... Tino thought a bit sourly as he began to clip his feet up and down as if he was dancing to some unbalanced jig that only he himself knew eyes the steps too.

Round and round he twirled until his burning eyes caught the glimpse of Nikolas, dancing very slowly, drag his feet over to a highly exited male. Tino's lips twisted into a tiny smirk as he recognized the wild throws of hair that was crowned atop the familiar Danes head, Mathias's grin back in place and as wide as ever.

Tino watched sneakily from the edge of the flames as the young and doleful eyed Norwegian, with a sour glare on his lips, thrust the prickly and scraggly stem of the heather into the Dane's fluttered fingers. Mathias's eyes twinkled brightly like unleashed stars as he threw his head back and cackled deep in his throat like a tone deaf Coyote. Nikolas only groaned from embarrassment before he stealthily danced away before the perverted Danish man could grab for a bit of flesh from the Norwegian.

Tino smiled as he turned his eyes away from the scene of his friend and his soon to be Summer Husband.

If Feliks and Nikolas could muster up the needed courage to find their Summer husbands, than Tino could do the same...At least he thought.

The young Finn, his steps beginning to grow heavy, his lashes beginning to flutter, swayed his hips over to the mass of men that he knew Berwald was sitting next to. A small sinful smile graced his lips as he moved quiet slowly, with purpose.

Soon, with a glinting from the fires help, Tino could make out the stern and overpowering glare of the man that he desperately wanted to impress tonight. It seemed that no other female had made their claim over the Swedish man, probably too damn afraid of his venomous glare to even _dance_ near him let along _touch_ him!

But Tino was glad for this, for it meant that Berwald was all his...

Skipping to a fro with a bit more flash of his hips, the young Finn danced nearer and nearer to the Swede. Berwald's eyes were careful as he drank in the sight of his beloved wife as the young man took low and shimmied dips of his hips, flashing a smooth expanse of thighs that made a few men coo and cackle.

Berwald turned his head sharply to the men that had their eyes on his sweet little wife and gave them the death glare of their life, sending them blinking their eyes back into their cooled horns of mead, vowing with silent breath to never look at the Finn with lust again lest they wanted their limbs to stay on their body.

But, with a smile, Tino caught Berwald's attention again as the Finn began to shake his feet closer to where Berwald was sitting, the little tiny bells making tinkling noises in the back of Berwald's skull that reminded him of bridal veils fit with chimes and keys. Tino was his bride. There was no doubting it now.

Not when the Finn swayed around to the fiddle and drums with such sultry delight that Berwald was afraid his jaw would drop from his mouth and land in the dust at his feet.

But before the Swede could entertain thoughts about lunging and ravaging said Finn, Tino had made his way closer to Berwald than he had through the entire dance.

The Finn seemed to smile with unleashed delight as he gave Berwald a little show of his naked hips, his stomach glistening with sweat that curled and shimmered with the body paint on his milky white skin.

It made Berwald swallow thickly, feeling his pulse in his mouth.

This was it. This was the night he would take Tino for his bride.

With that comforting thought of determination, the Swede dared to dart his eyes over to the yellow eyes daisy that was mocking Berwald from a distance. A very, short distance.

Tino, bending his head down as he shifting from his feet, his body all but curved over Berwald, giggled at the look in the man's eyes. He had finally snared the man of his dreams with his body and heart. Now it was time to seal the deal.

Taking a deep breath, Tino dragged his fingers slowly over his hips, his short legs still swaying back and forth, thighs rocking with circular motions that seemed to drag Berwald into a mindless stupor.

He had no idea Tino could do that with his body...Could—could bend that way! Could twist and pull! Could look so damn sexy that all Berwald could think about was how nice it would be to have the Finn be rid of all that clothing.

But before Berwald could let his thought drift to more dirty scenarios and ideas, the corner of his eye caught the flash of the soft petals from the flower as they were lifted from nimble fingers to rest in the Finn's palm.

Berwald looked up at Tino with widened eyes, his mouth drying as if he had just swallowed a fist full of sand. The Finnish man could only smile as he held the delicate flower in his fingers, the flowers thin green stem twirling in the bright and crackling light of the great Bonfire.

Berwald raised his eyes to Tino's suddenly, his gaze solidifying, glaring almost, like a wild monster to be set free.

'This is what you want?' The Swede's eyes seemed to ask as he looked straight into the face of his lover. Tino's face only seemed to bright softly, like a winter candle being lit as he bent down to eye level with the seated Finn.

Tino's lips curled into a small smile as he rested his hands to his chest, the flower pressed softly to his heart, the glow from the flames illuminating his skin so that it grew a pale bone white.

Tino looked into the eyes of the Swedish man once more before he slid his eyes shut like a contented cat. He took a soft breath of air from his lips, a slow stream of smokey mist that filled his lungs like specks of embers from the fire.

Berwald could only watch with reverence as the Finn, bending down, slowly took the flower from his flesh covered heart to relax the stem into the Swede's outstretched hands, the Finn's fingers locking over the Swede's in a gentle embrace that sent sparks through their bodies.

It was like magic, as if the flower itself was possessed by all things good in the world, all things lovely and sweet. It was like the flowers stem and leaves, petals and buds were controlled and ruled by each others heart strings, connecting them as one.

Everything stopped.

The Fiddles quieted, the Harp made it's last pluck. The Drums were stilled, the pipe's noises lost in the whispering wind.

The cattle stood with ash dripping from their brows, the dogs pressed their noses to the sky with a subtle sniff as the smelled the potency in the air.

The garlands stopped their insistent swinging from the trees, the flowers stopped their growing.

The mead wash hushed from the pots, the meat would not sizzle.

All around was silence. Even the groaning and hissing bonfire had humbled itself and stood still and waiting in the middle of the clearing.

The maidens had scattered, leaving only the timid Finn and the abashed Swede to stare at each other, the flower that represented their love for each other clasped between their hands.

No one breathed, no one blinked, no one _thought_...

All was quiet but the timid pounding noise of the two lovers pressed against each other from the heat of the Midsummer's bonfire. The flower was clung to with all their might as they rose almost together, one towering over the other.

Their eyes were locked as their mouths parted, their lungs begging for breath that was denied. Because even to breathe would distract themselves from the love that they had for each other. To think of anything else but them, together, united—it was impossible.

They had not meant for this to happen, at least not to happen so magically. They had to leave it to fate. They had to trust in one another to make it happen. To let their hearts sing with quiet whispers that no one could hear. They had to hum it with their lips, express it with their eyes, drink it with their actions.

It was not them that made their hearts connect.

It was not the Gods nor the Goddesses that looked down upon them with contentment and mirth.

It was not the Bonfire that shone so brightly behind them like a whole nest and cradle of captured stars.

It was not the shimmering wind that promised something otherworldly in the air.

No, it was none of these.

It was the small little flower that had disguised itself as their love. As their devotion, their lust, their hopes, their dreams, their courage in their hearts that led them to love each other.

It was all in a power of the little plant that enchanted them, that magical herb that blissfully took hold of their hearts and molded them into one.

It was none other than the Flowers Pick.

…**...**

**Shit, sounds like the ending huh? It's not—but the ending will come soon! Haha, I made Tino sound like a damned stripper! (Sorry ^^") I might make only one more chapter for the end—sorry! **

**Authors Notes: **

-"-your virgin Goddess gives you her chastity, like a delicate flower. Should you, young hunter, find yourselves with a flower clipped between your fingers from your loved one—then you are bound by the sun that drips before you to share in the great union of life."***-Just putting this in here to expain somethin' to y'all. Midsummer is like a mixture of Litha and Beltane. Litha is a Pagan holiday that pays homage to the sun, Beltane is a Pagan holiday that pays homage to the Fertility to the Goddess and God. This little bit of speech that Elizabeta gives is more of the British belief than Nordic. When couples fornicated in the forest, they played the role of God and Goddess. Hee hee Tino is a Goddess (BLASPHAMY! OAO) **

-Her eyes were especially trained on Mathias as the Dane gave out a wolfish grin that would put Fenrir's snapping jowls to shame.***- Fenrir was the Wolf son of the God Loki. He was bound by the Gods because he was growing stronger and stronger each day and was in danger to Odins life. When the end of the world occurs, he will break from his fetters and swallow Odin whole. **

-He liked the little British boy well...Perhaps, if he had enough courage to ask Berwald to marry him, and the giant Swede said yes...Well, maybe they could adopt the young lad. Tino was sure Arthur wouldn't mind, the Druid was always complaining about the child anyway...***-The Covens of the Druids are still in the world today. Though small in order, they are the Pagan priests of the Old Religion that are very knowledgeable on the teachings of Polygamist religion. Most Covens are in Britain, where they are most famous for their religion. **


	12. Merriment and Mirth

**Hello and Welcome! I know, I am bad, horrible, disgusting and diseased! But, after making a deal with my lovely friend, **yetanotherwallflower**, I am now posting an update! Here for your entertainment-Flowers Pick chapter twelve! I'd like to thank my lovely translators, **MalinChan, yotzie, Ruusu, kooliobutterflyhahaha, Sine-k, Another Mad Swiss, Lillens, DianeLeBlanc99**, and **Sarai Onyx Vainamoinen. **Thank you very much guys! I **do not own **Hetalia **nor** it's characters-though **I do own** this story! I suggest listening to "**_Antiokia_**" by **_Garmarna_ **for this chapter. **

…

Time had slithered on, dragged on as the heat in the air pressed down upon them, meshing them further into each other until skin touched skin and breathes mingled against each other in a battle for air, for life within their lungs. They could smell the scent of each others hair, perfumed with flowers and sweat. They could feel the heat that their bodies gave off in waves like golden sunlight. They could hear their hearts reverently beating against their rib cages with thudding power. They could almost taste the salt upon their sun stroked skin that beckoned to them each for a taste.

The silence toppled and crumbled over one another. Rising and falling, a movement to match their breathes, their heaves and pulls of their bodies that were dying, begging to get closer to one another, no matter the cost. It was then, with a voice that sounded so raw, the first of the two spoke, unable to hold the silence still.

"You picked me…Yer' Flower's Pick…_Me?_" Berwalds voice was hushed above the flames crackling, the birds cawing in the mighty ash and birch trees above them.

Somewhere all around them the village people stirred, trying to get and ear full, trying to listen and to watch at what the two lovers would do, what they were destined to accomplish this night and the many nights like it.

Tino licked his dry lips once, his eyes never straying from the Swede's intense gaze that glowed with jades hue.

Then, with careful movements that would not stir even a skittish rabbit, light fingers pressed themselves into Berwald's shoulders lightly as the Finn began to lead him into the dirt laden ring. Tino's feet soon began making quick work of moving backwards at a steady pace so that the oblivious Swede would not lose his balance and fall into the dust like a great pine tree cut down by an axe.

"Of course I picked you, my sweet, my love, my everything." Tino's voice was barely a hush, but the words rang true and loud through Berwald's ears, causing what one could only describe as a healthy red blush to grace the taller Nordics face.

"I love ya', I love ya' too, more than anythin'." Berwald whispered against Tino's pink bitten lips, his voice quaking some as he wrapped his arms tightly round Tino's waist, crushing the Finn in a warm embrace that left him breathless and wide eyed.

Tino couldn't help the grin that graced his face as he too wrapped his strong arms round the Swede's neck, Berwald hoisting him up into the air, the sounds of cheering soon erupting from the villagers who had been looking at the silent couple with fondness and contentment.

On and on Berwald spun the Finn in his arms, into the whirling air that clung to them, smelling like musk and flowers, until he could no longer feel breath in his own lungs and had to twirl Tino to the ground, his feet skidding into the earth with a hiss that made the Finn erupt into giggles.

And just like that the silence was broken and instead gave birth to a joy of sound and merriment that seemed to yell into the sky and the high high mountains that were topped with green and grey. The harp strings were plucked and the drum was beaten within an inch of it's life. The pipes had life breathed into them and the copper bells tinkled and chimed into a chorus of glee that all melded together under the evening sun that it seemed would never die and fade into darkness.

So much life and love had been breathed into the settlement that Tino feared that all the blood rushing around his body would surely make him faint and fall to the dust - however, with Berwald's strong and none too meek arms wrapped around his waist, Tino was sure his Summer-Husband would catch him if he fell. Such was a comforting thought that it left Tino even more breathless, finding a great weight up-heaved from his shoulders and flung into the bonfire - he had finally found his summer-husband.

As they danced around, the sun dripping gold upon their shoulders, Tino could feel a sense of joy bubbling up inside him, the likes he had never experienced before in his life. And as he was twirling around, drapes and skirts all aflutter, hand in hand with his strong and shy husband, his eyes couldn't help but catch the other people around him infected with the same kind of mirth and gloriousness that he was sure they all were beginning to feel.

It seemed that once Berwald had laid his heart and hands in Tino's care, the rest of the Warriors decided that they had waited long enough, and started to pluck and tear at each other for their tender brides.

Tino couldn't help but giggle into his hands as he witnessed Mathias leading Nikolas round the bonfire clumsily, the Danes bow-legged stance not helping in the slightest against Nikolas' steady rhythms'. And yet Nikolas' eyes still shone bright and blue and Mathias had what Tino could only described to be the biggest wolf-like grin he had ever seen on the Dane. And as he watched his cousin dance, hips swaying and mouth sliding into a little smile of delight, Tino could truthfully say that his cousin looked the happiest he had ever been in a long time, and Tino hoped to the Gods above that his cousin would smile like that everyday in the Danes care.

However, the sun, though still in the sky, was beginning to beat down tendrils of fire upon the dancers and the coals became too close to bare feet and stung against the grey ashes of the dirt. Legs began to cramp and arms were hung loosely to the sides as the couples began to grow weary of the song and movements and were beginning to look for a place to rest their aching feet.

It was then that benches of pine and oak and huge wooden slabs for tables were pushed and pulled against the dirt around the fires and around the coals. Skins and hides of cattle and reindeer were laid to rest against the wood for added comfort to sore feet and knees and jugs upon jugs of water were collected hurridly from the well to quench the brides nad their new hsubadns thirst.

However, as Tino and Berwald tried to make their way to a low seated table near the rest of their friends who had too stopped dancing to find their rest, the Swede and the Finn were caught by the arm by a few serving maids.

With explanation but crooked fingers in their arms, the two bewildered dancers were led to the front of the feasting tables and sat into two wooden chairs modestly decorated with upheavals of garlands - broom leaves with the little yellow flowers, dog wood with thick branches and purple lath blooms were woven nicely across their chairs in what became an array of sparkling color.

"The crowned one shall sit with the Flowered one." Was all the ladies said cheerfully before they scurried off into the bustling noise of whining cattle and clinking plates and pots leaving Berwald and Tino to blush next to each other like little children who got the extra flank of meat in the stew pot.

"So, this is happening then. The Maidens dance is sung and done, and now we feast under the sky like Bride and Groom…" Tino murmured out, his fingers running over his shoulders that were covered in sweat and dust - he needed a bath soon, some nice cool water would feel wonderful on his sun blistered skin.

"Aye…Now we feast, till our bellies ache…'n then…" Berwald's voice seemed to trail off as he looked at his empty wooden bowl, his fingers tracing the curved lip of it, his eyes intensely focused.

"And then we…" Tino's voice was raw and a bit croaky with embarrassment as he rested his hands along his clothed knees, holding his body up high in the midst of his heated face.

Berwald didn't dare to finish the Finn's words, he only smiled softly, shyly, like a boy catching the glance of his first crush…and That's what Tino was to him, the Finn realized. Berwald had loved Tino for so long, since they were kids still in white clothed tunics that swallowed their knees, since they used to chase butterflies and dare Mathias to eat them, since they would play in the mud till sunset and would get spanked by their mothers for coming home so late because they had lost track of time…

_My…_Tino began to wonder… _What happened? We were so close… Yet after that kiss, well._ Tino stopped his thinking, stopped the bad thoughts that sliced at his mind like a dulled blade. He was a child then, he knew no better about a mans heart and affection! Yet now, now he was older, wiser, stronger. He knew of the Swedes affections and he was more than sure that he could return them favorably with love and kindness.

Tino looked up at Berwald who was contenting himself to awkwardly trying to pour a wooden ladle of boiling mead into a clay pot, his brows furrowed in concentration as he dripped more onto the wooden table than into the mug.

Tino raised his brows at this and let a smirk wedge it's way onto his lips.

"My Berwald, you are but a bundle of nerves I fear." Tino whispered to the Swede, his breath catching in the mans ears making Berwald's own breath hitch in his throat.

"Aye…um…Maybe, just a little…" The Swede mumbled, his voice a little more hoarser than before. Tino watched as his Summer-Husband swallowed what seemed to be a lump in his throat, his mouth looking to be dryer than the river banks in drought season.

"And what is it that up-winds you so?" Tino asked with mild worriment as he slid his right hand along Berwald's leg, his amethyst eyes careful to catch and discomfort that would suggest that his hand movement was unwanted.

And though those Jade eyes began to grow glassy and panicked, the Swede only tensed his body for a few seconds before those startled eyes rested on Tino for the longest of seconds, and Tino felt his entire heart practically skip a beat, painfully reminding him of how intimate Berwald and he were going to be tonight.

Yet before that train of thought could blossom into a heated reminder in the Finn's already over-heated brain, a big clatter was heard before the two, causing them both to jump, their twined muscles already jumpy from what their bodies soon hoped to expect.

Tino, his eyes as wide as the sun that hung lazily above them, bit at his bottom lips as his nose met with the stench of cooked meat, salted and riddled in it's own fat and juices.

A big hock of reindeer flank and flesh sat steaming in gravy before the two, a big fork made out of iron stabbed into it.

Tino and Berwald, both feeling a little bit too queasy to even consider swallowing something through their dry throats, quickly pushed back the prospect of eating the rich meat placed before them.

Yet, no amount of "_No thank you_" and "_I'm really not hungry_" would appease the villagers and soon Tino and Berwalds' plates were begrudgingly filled to the brim with all sorts of food.

Boiled water fowls eggs with the golden yolk still runny drenched their slabs of rye bread. Oats mixed and soaked in goats milk flecked with dried blueberries were slopped up quickly by quick hands and cold metal spoons. Meat fell off the bone into the jaws of man as dogs begged beneath the tables with crooning wines and the wagging of their tails. Freshly skewered rat crisped and crackled with it's layer of butter and angelica as fingers worked diligently to pick off the scare yet hearty tasting meat.

Berwald and Tino, though their stomachs were growling and rumbling with anger, seemed to only be able to push a few handfuls of sliced and fried apples into their mouths with a bit of fat soaked bread sopped in warmed milk and honey. It's wasn't much to ease their stomachs protests, but the two feared they were too flushed and giddy to down anything more. To eat till their stomachs budged was simply not an option, there steadily beating pulse would not allow it.

And so they sipped contently on hot mead that bruised and burned their tongues, their fingers slowly and softly finding each others till they pressed and intertwined upon their laps, acting like shy lovers in the midst of a festival.

And as the torches blew and frothed with their last bits of tar and oil, and the dogs had given up long ago on the prospects of fine feasting food and were instead busying themselves with the leftover bones of pigs and deer, the two lovers, so enamored with each other, didn't notice the slight shuffling of people.

Weary handmaidens stalking back to their hovels with their bellies arm and full, deciding to spin a bit of wool while the sun was still shining and the lighting of a candle would not be needed. Young children carried by their mothers and fathers into their halls to sleep contentedly on mattresses of hay and lath, to dream of the end of summer suns and the beginning of frosty winter.

For tonight, this hour, this moment in time belonged not to the old and not to the newly young, but to the youths with crowns of flowers in their hair and a lively skip in their step.

This night belonged only to the Lovers.

…**.**

**Not very good I know, but hey, it's an update! And I kept good to my promise! (Eat that yetanotherwallflower! I love you baby!) So, please review, my heart needs to hear some love, hate, goodness, spitefulness, anything ya' got. REVIEW OR ELSE THE DOLPHINS SHALL GUT ME LIKE A FISH! That is all!**


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